


On call

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Co-workers, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Isak knows what he's meant to do in life - surgery. And he can't wait to show everyone that he's good at it.That is, if he'll ever get a goddamn chance. Not getting hindered by ridiculous, charming guys whose main advantage in the operating room simply is the length of their legs.Or - a hospital AU, with both Isak and Even as intern physicians.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is something I've been working on for a couple of months now, and I'm so excited to finally post it! 
> 
> Most of it is written already – I’ll upload at least once a week as I edit. 
> 
> Disclaimer: although I know a thing or two about Swedish hospitals, minor details about the Norwegian healthcare system might be incorrect - you'll have to bear with me.
> 
> There are non-explicit descriptions of different surgical procedures throughout this fic - just a heads up if that’s something that bothers you. 
> 
> A million thank you's to the truly amazing [vesperthine](http://vesperthine.tumblr.com) who betaed this fic, and made it so much better. 
> 
> Extra thanks to Immy for the Norway-picking – and to livreddare for the expert knowledge!
> 
> And to my darling S, who got me into this whole SKAM mess to begin with. Words can't express how happy I am to have you in my life. This is for you. I love you <3

Isak’s left shoulder is aching. His wrist is completely numb from holding a metal hook down a gaping wound just below the right side of some middle aged man’s rib cage. He can’t even see anything down inside the wound, not even if he lifts himself up on his tiptoes, since the resident surgeon to his left successfully (and perhaps intentionally) is blocking his view while working her way around the patient’s gallbladder.

Across from Isak stands the consultant surgeon, focused on studying the resident’s handiwork, and to her right, effortlessly holding another hook down the wound, without looking the least tired from it, is Even. Even, with his impossibly long legs, barely has to lean forward as the consultant surgeon points down the wound with her forceps and asks:

”So, interns… what blood vessel is this?”

Even’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and Isak sees his chance. _He doesn’t know_. If only Isak could see what structure the consultant is pointing at. As he leans forward a little more while bending his neck to the right, he catches a glimpse of the only sliver of Even’s face that is visible between his surgical cap and the green surgical mask.

He can swear that he can almost see his brain working behind those pale blue eyes. Isak bends his back just a little more to be able to see, and accidentally bumps his left shoulder into the resident surgeon’s right arm, making her jump and shout at him to be more careful. Even just shrugs.

”The common hepatic artery?”

”Very good”, the consultant surgeon replies, expression serious but almost smiling. She turns her attention to Isak, and there’s not even a shadow of a smile left on her face.

”Isak, we can ask the assistant nurse to fetch you a stool if you’d like. It’s better for you and everyone else if Anita can operate without disturbances.” Her piercing stare does not match her silky tone of voice.

”I’m fine. Thank you.”

”If you say so.” She looks away, giving off the air of someone who really couldn’t care less. ”Now, Even, as you can see, the common bile duct is now laid bare and ready to be cut. Would you like to do it?”

”May I? Of course I want to!” The giddiness in Even’s voice is unmistakable.

Isak narrows his eyes and resists the temptation to stick his tongue out at Even under the surgical mask. Even if no one can see it, it would actually be childish, and Isak is far from childish. He might even be the most serious intern to start this semester among his group of eight, sure of this future ever since his first placement in the surgical department. The competitive atmosphere, the seriousness, the sense of accomplishment after a successful surgical procedure – it is _him_. And nobody is supposed to come in between him and his goal. Especially not ridiculous, charming guys whose main advantage is the length of their legs.

The thing is, he’s not even sure that Even wants this. He’s just so effortlessly good at anything he tries and well-liked everywhere he sets foot. Even would probably be welcomed back in all of the departments at the hospital through which they’ve rotated by now.

And it’s always the same story. Even likes it so much everywhere that he can’t seem to decide which path to choose just yet. Unlike himself. Isak just can’t deal with all the overbearing, nervous parents in the pediatric ward, or the old people slowly and incoherently retelling their medical history (starting somewhere around 1970, mostly) in the geriatric department. Not to mention the emotionally unstable teenage girls or the godforsaken lethargic depressive patients of the psychiatric ward. (There’s other reasons that Isak stays clear of the psychiatric department, but he’s not gonna go there). 

Isak knows what he’s meant to do, and he’s good at it.

That is, if he’ll ever get a goddamn chance.

He grits his teeth. The consultant surgeon doesn’t even spare him a glance at this stage. He might as well just throw his hook down on the patient’s stomach and get out of here.

But that is, of course, not an option. Getting a foothold at the surgical department at Ullevål university hospital of Oslo does not entail going home just because you feel like it. And certainly not before five o’clock. No, Isak has been staying late almost every night for the last four months, ever since he started his rotation here.

And has it helped? He likes to think so. Sometimes, the resident surgeons invite him to have lunch with them. Once, he had coffee in the break room with one of the other consultant surgeons who remembered his name and asked him about his plans for the future. (Not this one. That ship seems to have sailed).

And Even? He shows up on time, mostly, that’s true, but around four o’clock he whiskers out, on his way to art showings, band practice, poetry readings, whatever. And his girlfriend, of course. His _other interests_ that surely will prevent him from a successful career, at least in one of the high-profile departments.

Unlike Isak, who does not have the time for luxuries – or nuisances – like that. Those kind of distractions cloud your judgment, obviously.

”Well done!” The consultant surgeon’s voice interrupts Isak’s musings, but it’s clearly not directed at him, but at an ever smiling Even, holding the now removed gallbladder in his hand.

”Twenty minutes to go, I believe”, she adds, addressing the anesthesiologist sitting by the patient’s head. She then turns to the resident surgeon. ”You’ll close the wound, Anita? I have a research meeting to attend.”

After watching the resident giving Even directions as how to make the most intricate intracutaneous sutures, Isak can finally remove his suffocating gown and head for the dressing room at the end of the corridor. He does not look back as he lets go of the door to the operating room, letting it slam shut.

 

* * *

 

In the confines of the men’s dressing room, Isak removes his keys, his ID card and phone from the pockets of his green scrubs, placing them on the wooden bench between the rows of orange metal lockers. He sighs, pulling the green shirt over his head, and turns to throw it in the laundry bin. Just as he reaches the bin, however, he’s startled by a breathy laugh from just behind his right shoulder.

”What a blast, huh?”

 _Even_. How did he ever get in here without Isak noticing? Who even says _blast_ anyway, in that totally unironical way? _And why isn’t he wearing a shirt?_

Right. Dressing room. Isak exhales.

”I guess. Whatever.”

”You guess? That was pretty awesome. Everyone says Brandt is really scary, but that was so cool of her, right?” Even raises both eyebrows expectantly.

”Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

” _Whatever_ ”, Even repeats. ”Yeah, I guess.”

Even turns around to get dressed, slightly slumping his shoulders and looking a little tired somehow. _Good. Go home and sleep a few days off again_. Maybe Isak will finally get somewhere in this place if he isn’t hindered by those long legs and broad shoulders with their brown freckles and wait. _What is this_.

He averts his eyes and very deliberately turns to throw his scrubs in the bin.

”See you around, Isak.” Even’s voice is indifferent behind him.

When he returns to open his locker, he sees Even’s legs round the corner, and hears the door slam shut.

 

* * *

 

Isak drags his legs up the staircase, trying to dig out his flat keys from the bottom of the backpack while climbing up to the third floor. Unsuccessful, he realises that he must have forgotten his keys this morning. _Again._ He sighs in defeat and knocks on his flat door. Unsurprisingly, nobody comes to open. He knocks again, more loudly this time, and can hear some faraway shuffling and huffing somewhere inside.

The door slowly opens, and a confused-looking Magnus appears, with sleep-tousled hair and a wrinkled t-shirt, duvet assembled around his hips and legs.

”What? Why…?” He spots Isak, and understanding dawns on his face and a sly smile spreads across his face. ”Again, huh?”

”I had to skip a lecture to come home and let you in only last week!” Isak retorts surly.

He shuffles past Magnus, not particularly careful not to bump into him on the way in.

”Bad day?”

Isak doesn’t deserve him. Or Jonas, for that matter. He slumps his shoulders.

”Just… you know. Frustrating, that’s all.”

”What is?”

”That they always let too many people in at the same time. They could have hired, say, _four_ interns instead of eight and then it wouldn’t have been so fucking _crowded_ all the time, when I _finally_ get the chance to make a good impression and then everything just goes to shit!”

Anger flares up inside him, and he doesn’t mean to, but as he raises his voice he sees Magnus back away a little. ”I’m sorry, Mags. Just – bad day. Yeah.”

”It’s okay, Isak. You know, I just had a night shift, and of course, being a nurse in the ER isn’t all fancy like a surgeon’s heroic work, but I think I get it, okay? It’s stressful, sometimes. I know.”

Isak suddenly feels exhausted. No. Magnus doesn’t know. And whatever Isak says right now, he’s gonna turn down his friend’s attempt at compassion and appear like an asshole.

”Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna go to my room now. Study.”

”Yeah. You do that. I’ll try to… wake up now or something.”

Magnus shuffles off to the living room to turn on the tv and throw himself onto the couch.

”Hey, by the way. We’re meeting Vilde and Eva and the girls later for beer. At seven or so. Wanna join?”

”Nah. Gotta study. You know. Exam next Friday, and all.”

”Sure.” Magnus looks at him just a fraction of a second too long, and turns to the tv. ”Just let me know if by any chance you should change your mind. There’ll be other girls, too, you know.” He winks, not at all subtly.

”Yeah.”

Isak drags himself into his room, barely mustering up the energy to shut the door behind him before he falls down on his bed, proceeding to stare at the ceiling. They both know he’s going to spend the rest of the night holed up in here – no use to pretend that he even considers going out.

He sighs.

Weirdly enough, this wasn’t the situation just a year ago. When he was still in his last year in uni, planning ahead seemed so much more like a… fun game? Isak knows better now, though. Hard work, diligence, and dedication has taken him here.

Sometimes, though, after days like today, even if he is only four months into his internship, a tiny part of him wonders if it’s worth it. Not that he would voice such a thing out loud. He’s invested far too much in this, and what would everybody think if he all of a sudden isn’t grateful for what he’s achieved?

It’s just that it should feel… more? More satisfying? More… meaningful?

It’s probably just now that he’s realised that the actual hardships only have begun. No one would probably guess it, but Isak hates fighting others to get what he wants. He wishes he could stay out of their hair, really – not to mention if they could stay out of his. He’s not ashamed of being a loner, but he’d preferably be one in peace.

And his friends… well, he doesn’t expect them to get it. They didn’t in the first place – Magnus is a _nurse_ , for Christ’s sake, it’s not like career moves is something that speaks profoundly to him. And Jonas, well, he’ll forever be content with his middle-school teaching job – so how would they be able to follow him all the way round to this?

He sighs again. Picks up his phone and starts scrolling mindlessly through his Instagram. Perhaps he should delete it. It’s more time-consuming than a welcome distraction these days, anyway.

A notification drops down from the top of his screen.

 

THE INTERNZ YAYYY

_Emma Larzen_

_17.42_

Sooo there’s a pub next Friday in the staff restaurant

Right after our exam is finished!

We should all go!!!

 

 _Oh god._ If only it wouldn’t be considered a total dick move that could perhaps in the future difficult his career, he would quit the group chat this second. But, of course, the most positive, happy, irritating fucking colleague of them all started it less than one hour after their first start-up day together in September and there was no way to decline politely. The name of the chat would be enough, and totally valid reason, really.

Another notification drops. This time, it’s a private message.

 

_Emma Larzen_

_17.44_

Sooooo Iiiiisak, did you see what I just sent to the gc?

 

Bleurgh. He’s not getting out of this. Maybe if he doesn’t answer, she’ll let it slide.

 

_17.44_

Iiiiisak! You HAVE to come! Think of all the important surgeons who will be there…! ;) ;)

 

Well. She’s got a point.

 

_17.45_

And I will, too! :D ;D

 

Oh god.

It’s not that he doesn’t like girls, precisely. He just doesn’t have time for them. Never had. Not in high school, when all the crap with his family went down, not in university – then he could at least tolerate his fellow students, because you didn’t have to fight them over who would get to cut a common bile duct – and here it goes again. His heart starts beating faster at the thought of what happened earlier and totally unbidden, Even’s enthusiastic smile appears in front of his eyelids. _Whatever_. He shakes the memory off.

His phone pings again.

 

_Eva_

_17.51_

You coming tonight? Miss you <3

 

This is perhaps the only girl he’ll have time for. Or, make time for. Like Jonas, and Magnus, she’s been there long enough to know things about Isak. Things that nobody else will ever know.

Like Magnus. He is an okay flatmate and all, albeit a little too messy for Isak’s taste, and sometimes he just doesn’t shut up, and oh god, no way that he’ll come along tonight. He just can’t take another night of attempted match-making and meaningless hook-up talk. That might be fine for all the ER nurses and staff, for all of their blue light parties, but Mags just won’t get into that blonde head of his that some people have more important things to do.

Isak rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s just gonna rest for a little while.

 

* * *

 

He wakes to an insistent pounding on the door.

”Are you coming? It’s ten to seven.” Magnus’ voice sounds muffled from the other side.

Confused, Isak looks around for his phone. ”Eeh… you go ahead. I’m just gonna…”

”Were you sleeping?”

”Maybe?”

”Good. Isak, that’s… good. Go back to sleep. I’ll tell them you had to… catch up with your mom, or something.”

A sudden wave of heartfelt gratitude rushes through him.

”Wow. Thanks, Mags.”

”Sure. I’ll see you later.”

A minute later, the front door slams shut. And there’s no way that he’s going back to sleep. Well, Magnus might be right and he might need it, but he’s lost at least one hour’s worth of studying.

He picks up his phone and decides to ignore the notifications filling the screen. It’s gonna be a long night. Better get to it.

 

* * *

 

The next day, he’s ten minutes early for the morning radiology round, having gotten almost three hours’ sleep after memorizing all the abdominal aortic branches, to the point where he’d be able to recite them backwards. In his sleep, if he may. It was a good night.

”Hey.”

Even slides into the seat next to him in the otherwise empty demonstration room, grinning and offering him one of two paper cups filled with what’s supposedly coffee. (You never know. He’s heard from Noora, who’s studying law, that some people actually put sleeping pills in their fellow student’s drinks to make them miss important exams. Ripping out the most crucial pages in the library law books, and the like).

”Coffee?”

He narrows his eyes, gaze darting between the cup and Even’s innocent smile.

”I… already had coffee. At home.”

Even’s smile doesn’t falter, though.

”No worries. I’ll just drink them both myself. Although," he chuckles, leaning in a little too close for comfort to theatre whisper in Isak’s ear, ”maybe I’ll embarrass myself if I have to go out and pee during the hypophyseal resection later. What do you think?”

Isak’s stomach sinks.

”You’re planning on attending that, too?”

Fuck. He already talked to the endocrine surgeon in charge of that one, and had hopes of actually be allowed to change into a sterile gown this time, and perhaps, perhaps, be allowed to hold an instrument or even hold a suction tube or something. Bet Even just will slide in from the side and wedge his way to the table somehow.

”Yeah. It’ll be no problem, don’t you think? We can watch the endoscopy screen together, and you can answer all the hard anatomy questions this time.”

Right. There’s no way that one of them will be invited to actually take an active part in the procedure itself if they both stand there. Watching the screen together.

Changing into green scrubs together.

He has to get out of this.

”I… I’m actually gonna watch the appendectomy instead. Later.”

“The one that starts at ten? You’ll make it to both of them.”

”Yeah, but I’m gonna… study the anatomy beforehand.”

He’s seen at least twenty appendectomies by now. And hypophyseal resections perhaps takes place every four months or so. By the next one, he’ll have moved on to his (much dreaded) general medicine rotation.

Even shrugs. ”Fine with me. I’ll see you at lunch, then.”

The radiologist starts talking and room falls silent - Isak suddenly notices that all the seats have filled up with people who must have been talking among themselves. Even shifts in his seat next to him, and his eyes reflect the abdominal CT scan pictures glowing on the huge screens.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Isak doesn’t attend any operations at all that day. After the meeting is over, he spots Emma making a beeline towards him as everyone assembles at the door. He manages to squeeze past Even, double back to the right and slip out of sight into the bathroom.

After maybe ten minutes of scrolling through his phone, he decides he’s had enough stress for the day, and heads for the hospital library. He actually debates on going to the interns’ lunch room when the clock starts nearing noon, but the thought of avoiding Emma and Even simultaneously is exhausting enough to steer his steps to the vending machine in the library instead.

The sandwich and the Fanta he buys keeps him company until the somewhat stern, but polite librarian points out that it’s eight o’clock in the evening and that the library is about to close for the day. He assembles his things, and joins her out the door. Before she locks it behind them, she pushes a small wooden rack on wheels filled with paperbacks outside, with the sign ”Emergency books – borrow if you need one! No library card needed!” on the side.

It’s admirable that the rack is there for relatives and others close to critically ill patients, who maybe just need a distraction like this to make it through the night, but how can they be so sure that the books will be returned? He really doesn’t want to call it naïve, but. Still.

He makes his way to the almost deserted main entrance, a few drunks lingering outside. A gray-haired old lady in patient’s clothes, sitting in a wheelchair, smoking a cigarette, is talking to a young black-haired girl in heavy make-up who is hooked up to an iv pole on small wheels, also smoking.

The choices people make.

He sighs, thinking of his anatomy flashcards awaiting him on his bed.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Isak is stoned out of his mind. This maybe was not a choice he made himself, and if so, a subconscious one. But Jonas just showed up at the door and Magnus squeaked excitedly at the sight of the little bag of weed in Jonas’ hands and well, Jonas does know Isak and what he needs. Sometimes.

”I didn’t work today," he admits into thin air and giggles a little, because what will his friends say? They would never expect _that_.

”What? But you just got home from the hospital!” Magnus laughs. ”Did you take the day off and wander in the forest? That’s so cool, Isak, I wish I had done that. Man, imagine if you met an animal or something! Like an elk. Whoa, they’re big, you know? I’d be so scared. But then, also, like, impressed, I guess?”

Isak has nothing to say to that.

Jonas looks at him, eyes a little red and bleary but still focused sharply on Isak.

”You did? Take the day off?” Jonas looks surprised, and a little impressed.

”Nah. I studied in the library. Instead of hanging out in the operating rooms. I’m at the ER next week and I – needed to prepare.” Isak deflates. Too bad he has to disappoint them, no elk for Mags and no self-care for Jonas.

”Speaking of the ER!” Magnus sits up, far too excitedly for someone so stoned. ”Your intern colleague, what’s his name? The really tall one?”

”Eh – Even?”

”Yeah, man, you should have seen him this Saturday at the ER. This bitchy patient that always shows up and begs us for morphine – he just talked her into going home in like two minutes. It was awesome!”

Jonas sighs loudly. ”First of all, don’t call people bitchy, Mags. And aren’t you all, like, forbidden to talk about patients to outsiders?”

”Yeah, I mean, technically… but, come on, man, it’s the only outlet we have! Right, Isak?”

”What?” Isak stopped listening at the words _Saturday_ and _Even_. Has he been taking extra shifts at the ER? To impress the senior doctors, for sure. Isak thought he was the only one that ambitious. ”Even was there?”

”Even, yeah. He’s hot, too, right?”

Isak stiffens. ”What?!”

”Isn’t he? I mean, I can appreciate that a guy is hot, even though I’m straight, right?”

Jonas looks at Isak in a far too encouraging way.

”He has a girlfriend”, Isak blurts out.

”Yeah?” Magnus deadpans.

”So… maybe you shouldn’t go around saying that he’s hot. People may get the wrong idea, think that you’re after him or something. You know. Rumours may start.”

”Okay. But I’m not doing that?” Magnus looks utterly confused. ”He’s just objectively good-looking, am I not right?”

By the luck of a million stars, Isak’s phone chooses this moment to break the silence with a loud ping. He hastily picks it up, like he was expecting some very important message.

 

THE INTERNZ YAYYYY

_Emma Larzen_

_21.52_

So THE PUB tomorrow! I’m so hyped that we’re all going!!! Meet outside the locker rooms at 16?

 

Right. The pub. Well, there must still be some way to get out of this.

 

_Even Bech Naesheim_

_21.53_

Sure thing!

 

And in five minutes’ time, all of his fellow seven interns have confirmed their attendance. He groans.

”What?” Magnus asks.

”Nothing.”

”Come on! I heard you! That was the ’I don’t wanna but somebody’s forcing me’-Isak-moan, and you know that I know that you know that I’ll find out what it meant anyway.”

While more than a little confused by this stream of words, Isak can still conclude that Magnus likely won’t budge.

”Fine. It’s this… pub at the hospital tomorrow. You probably know all about it. All the other interns are going.”

Magnus nods, enthusiastic. ”Yeah, I know! If I didn’t have a night shift, I would so be there. You won’t imagine what goes down at those pubs, Isak!”

Isak has an idea. He shivers in disgust.

”So. Now they all expect me to be there as well.”

”So?” Magnus shakes his head for lack of understanding, mouth slightly agape.

”Because I don’t wanna hang out with them? Because they’re all annoying, self-entitled… I don’t know? Kids?”

Magnus rolls his eyes.

”Oh, you’re so grown-up just because you stay in on a Saturday night to study and you’re too afraid that they won’t like you if they get to know you so you’d rather stay away.”

Ouch. Weed really drags out some really weird theories out of people. ”Besides, they’re not all annoying. That Even guy…”

”Not again, Magnus! What is so special about Even that you just can’t shut up about him? And why do you have to talk to _me_ about him, like, all the time?”

”First of all, I don’t. Talk to you about him all the time. And second, I heard that he’s…”

Isak’s phone pings loudly again, interrupting all conversation.

 

THE INTERNZ YAYYY

_Emma Larzen_

_21.57_

So Iiiiisak…

You’ll be there too. Right?

 

_Even Bech Naesheim_

_21.58_

Of course he will. This is not optional, you know ;)

 

 _Fine._ He guesses it’s easier to just go there to just avoid all the nagging, and then sneak away after an hour to the blessed solitude of an empty apartment.

 

_Isak Valtersen_

_22.01_

Yeah. I’ll see you there.

 

Magnus has, thankfully, moved on to some other subject during Isak’s internal turmoil, now reciting the oddest objects he’s seen being removed out of numerous people’s asses in the ER.

”Mags…” Jonas groans, putting his hands over his eyes, but this. This Isak can do. Other people’s misery is at least easier to deal with than his own.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm absolutely overwhelmed with the response to the first chapter - thank you all so much for all the kudos and comments!
> 
> I knew I said I'd update at least once a week, so since I have no self control, I'm thinking that two days is just a little less than a week, right?
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

Friday passes by on a surprisingly positive note – Isak manages to be the only intern present at a splenectomy, and is allowed to both handle the diathermy forceps for a while and close the wound afterwards. He’s rewarded with a smile and some encouraging words from the surgeon in charge, and is in a better mood than he’s been for quite some time as he changes out of his green operating scrubs. After putting on his jeans and a t-shirt, he heads out of the locker room to meet up with the others. Maybe this pub won’t be so insufferable after all.

He changes his mind the minute he hears the high-pitched laughter and excited chatter around the corner. He had forgotten how gossipy they all are. Well, most of them. To be honest, he hasn’t heard Even utter a negative word about anyone, ever. Weird, now that he thinks about it.

His thoughts come to an abrupt halt as he walks right into said Even who stands lounging against the wall, a little bit away from the others. It’s almost like he was waiting for Isak, with an amused smile playing on his lips.

”Deep in thought?” he chuckles.

Isak stares at him.

”Just kidding,” Even says, pushing himself off the wall with one hand. ”Glad that you decided to join.”

Isak tries to conjure up an air of indifference. ”Why wouldn’t I?”

”You don’t always strike me as the social type, that’s all.” Even shrugs.

Well, that’s it. He’s getting out of here.

But Even must have sensed something, because he stretches out a hand, grabs Isak’s wrist, _grabs it, skin on skin_ , and looks apologetic.

”I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. Isak, come on. I’ll buy you a beer.”

 _Fine_. One beer then.

 

* * *

 

The bar is not that bad, actually. The beer is cheap, and it’s a little fun watching everyone out of their scrubs – some of the nurses from the ER have really dressed up. There’s something familiar about a crowd of middle-aged women laughing in a corner, but Isak really can’t figure out what it is, until he suddenly realizes that they are operating room nurses and that he has actually only seen their eyes before.

One of them has her hair dyed in rainbow colours. He can’t draw his gaze away from it, unbelieving. Does she really dare to flaunt such hair, implying all that it does, in a work environment like this?

It’s not that he has anything against other people being gay, or whatever. Of course anyone should love whoever they want, and all that. It’s just – she doesn’t seem to be at all afraid of the consequences. You never know what other, important people would think.

Plus, he has heard enough homophobic jokes around the hospital, and at pubs and gatherings like this, to last him a lifetime. How anyone willingly would subject themselves to that, he doesn’t understand.

Isak studies the rainbow-coloured hair once again and tries not to stare too visibly - his brain fervently trying to grasp how he feels about it.

He’s sure of one thing, though – if it, against all odds, were him, he wouldn’t be that obvious about it.

He pushes the inkling of a thought back in his mind. 

To his left, Emma is chatting together with Hilde and Therese. They’re glancing at a gang of thirty-something male anesthesiologists and giggling in what they probably think is a subtle, or very attractive, way. That quiet intern that he hasn’t really talked to yet, for real, his name is Martin (Isak’s almost sure) is speaking with the only girl in the group that Isak could see himself talking to for more than ten seconds straight. Marie. Her name is Marie. They are standing quite close to each other. Huh. He never noticed that before. Even is nowhere to be seen. _Where did he go?_ Isak hardly has to stretch to be able to look out over a crowd, and Even should be easy to spot, but there’s just too many people.

”Isak. Hi! Are you looking for someone?”

Oh. It’s Julian.

Julian, who started talking to Isak the first day, on the first break, and suggested that they should study together. After talking for two minutes. Julian, who has bought Isak numerous coffees and once offered that Isak should be allowed to intubate a patient during their anesthesiology week, although Isak suspects that it might be one of Julian’s favorite specializations.

”No. No. Just – you know, scanning the crowd.”

”Did you try the beer? It’s really good!”

Isak honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s one of the cheapest beers, the kind he usually buys himself on the rare occasions that he lets himself drink, and well, ”really good” is an exaggeration.

Then it strikes him. Julian is maybe trying to make a conversation.

”Eh, yes! Really good.” Julian’s face lightens up, and Isak fakes a smile, feeling quite pleased that he managed to read the situation correctly.

”So, is this your first hospital pub?” Julian asks.

Isak frowns. Of course it is, doesn’t Julian know that? They haven’t gone here before? ”Yeah – of course it is? Isn’t it your first as well?”

”Actually, there was a pub here last week. I was here with Anders and Marcus, you know, the nurses from the ER.” Isak vaguely remembers Magnus mentioning names like that.

”Yeah, I think I know.” Isak waits for an explanation.

”You know, the ones who are dating.” Of course. People are dating. Other people. ”Each other, I mean.” _Oh_. ”Sandra was there, too.” Julian points in the direction of the rainbow-coloured hair in the corner.

 _Wait._ Is Julian trying to tell him something?

”Okay?”

”Don’t you know that there is a employee gay pub here every second Wednesday of the month?” What is Julian assuming, really?

He decides to go for the ignorant approach. ”Why would I know that?”

”Ehm, Isak…” Julian blushes. _He_ _blushes_? ”I thought it was pretty obvious what I was asking you?”

”I don’t have time to go to pubs, why should I keep track of when they happen?” See. The ignorant approach. He can totally do this.

”I’m not talking about _time._ ” Julian moves closer, just a little, but it’s definitely noticeable. Oh god. Isak’s back is to one of the lunch tables, with chairs on top of it, and there’s no way that he can move out of the way without it being obvious that he’s moving out of the way. Which would make it obvious that there is something happening here that he has to get out of. Because there isn’t.

Julian looks up at Isak, through his lashes, and looks both nervous and strangely confident at the same time.

”Isak, I…”

Suddenly, a long, pale arm is slung around Isak’s shoulder from his right. Isak almost jumps. Julian, instinctively it seems, takes a small step back.

”So, enjoying yourselves?” Even, of course it’s Even, shoots Julian a dazzling smile.

”Oh, yes. I was actually gonna go get us some more beer. You want one, too?” Julian backs off a little bit more.

”I’m fine, thanks.” Even keeps smiling, but somehow it doesn’t reach his eyes. ”But I’m sure Isak wants one. By all means, go get him one.” Even draws his watchful gaze away from Julian, and looks right at Isak instead, expression softening. ”You do like beer, am I right?”

”Not exactly,” Isak says and creases his eyebrows, because Even does not remove his arm just the tiniest bit. Now that he thinks about it, it’s a considerable weight on his shoulders. He should shrug out of it, but somehow he feels frozen in place.

”No? You do come across as someone who likes a beer. In a hospital pub.” And okay, this is the second time in maybe five minutes that somebody is assuming things about Isak. The arm around his shoulder and Even’s soft gaze and all the unasked questions suddenly feel suffocating.

”I actually don’t. Not right now, at least.” Isak shoves Even’s arm away and okay, maybe he glares a little. ”I have to go.”

Even narrows his eyes, and his expression hardens slightly.

”What exactly is your problem?” 

 _Problem_? Isak doesn’t have any such thing.

”What do you mean, problem?”

”All I ever do is try to be nice to you. I thought it would be obvious by now that I actually like you, Isak, despite a lot of things, and want to be your friend, except you do nothing else but trying your hardest to push me away, for what seems no reason at all. I don’t get you.”

”That’s right. You actually don’t.”

And Isak has nothing more to say after that. As he pushes past Even without looking him in the eyes, avoiding the probable anger and disappointment there, his throat constricts and he feels his ribcage closing in on his heart. He spots Julian in the distance, carrying two beers in his hands, and dodges past the people by the door before Julian can see him. He half-runs up the stairs, grabbing his jacket from the hangers by the main door, and runs out into the night, heading for his only safe haven: home.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the weekend passes by quite uneventfully. Magnus was thankfully out somewhere when Isak returned home on Friday night, so he could just dive into bed, avoiding any questions about the pub, his job, or God forbid, Even.

There is a tiny sting somewhere in the back of his head when Isak spares Even a thought, mentally preparing himself for a week in the ER while lying in his bed on Sunday night. He supposes it might be a bit of a bad conscience – not that Even was completely right, of course, he has not always been nice to Isak, has he? And Isak has not always been a complete dick to him, right?

Well, Isak knows that he can come off as a little – rough around the edges, especially when he’s stressed. And if he must admit it to himself, he was a little stressed out at the pub. It had been an intense week.

His mind wanders, thinking about the different surgical procedures he attended last week. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll receive some interesting case in the ER next week that will be admitted for surgery and he can participate somehow in the operation. What if there is, for example, a perforated ventricular ulcer or something? Will he be able to recognize the signs? Hopefully. Most probably. He imagines himself following the patient into radiology, take command, maybe even be able to interpret the CT pictures himself. Then he’ll call the consultant surgeon and inform them in the most rapid and concise way, and hopefully he’ll get proper praise for it, and maybe, maybe, get invited to the operating room. He feels warm all over just thinking about it.

Or maybe it’ll happen to someone else. To Even.

It’s not that he chooses to be jealous of Even, precisely. It’s just that – Isak would care just as much if somebody else would steal his thunder, but Even is just so much more… likely to do it. Not because he’s a bad person who wants to overshadow Isak. No. Quite the opposite. He’s just so good at everything. And he faces it all with a smile, and some kind of openness. He seems to always believe the best about others. It all seems so effortless. Isak can’t imagine that Even has been forced to face a lot of hardships in life. Not like Isak.

That nagging feeling creeps onto him again. Maybe Even was, at least partly, right. He has always been pretty nice to Isak. But then, he’s pretty nice to everybody.

Now that Isak thinks about it, though, Even wasn’t that friendly towards Julian. Weirdly enough.

Julian. Isak starts getting worked up now. What is his deal, anyway? He scrunches his nose, even though he’s alone in his room. It’s almost as if he was – hitting on Isak or something. Good thing he made it crystal clear that that’s not going to happen. 

And anyway, everybody knows that he’s not interested in anyone that way.

Suddenly, Isak feels exhausted. He’d better sleep if he’s gonna make it through a full week at the ER.

 

* * *

  

The first thing Isak sees the next morning as he approaches the surgical nurse’s station at the ER, is Magnus blonde head bobbing excitedly.

”I can’t believe we’ll get to work together this week! Can you believe it, Isak?”

Somehow, Isak is not sure he can either. He grins, though. Magnus’ smile is a little contagious. And he had left a cup of coffee on the kitchen counter for Isak before leaving, knowing that Isak always gets out of bed about two minutes before he has to be out the door.

”So.” The surgical team leader clears her throat. ”This week’s triage doctor is Ella Nordheim, with nurses Marit and Adil. Isak, you’re on team one with Cathrine and Eivind. Team two, Even with Magnus and Gita.”

Even. Isak had forgotten that they’d be here together. All week. In the same small office. His conscience reminds him that last time they saw each other, Isak actually, maybe a little intentionally, bumped his shoulder into Even on his way out. A phantom feeling grazes said shoulder as he thinks about it.

He dares casting a look at Even, who does not meet his eyes.

”I will be team leader all week. Any questions?”

As if anybody would dare voice them in front of everyone.

Even clears his throat.

”Well, actually, I have to get out a little early on Wednesday,” Even says. ”Is that okay? Around half past three or so.”

The team leader smiles at Even without a hint of annoyance.

”Of course. I know. No problem,” she says. ”Anything else? Well, let’s get to work!”

Stepping into work this morning, Isak had been nursing a half-formed thought of apologizing to Even. Now, his irritation is back full force. What did Even ever do to deserve that kind of special treatment? While all Isak ever does is stay late, much later than expected, to make a good impression. And others just – get away with it.

At least it’s not like the unlucky, or should he say, unskillful interns who had the bad judgment to become parents during their university years, and now have to leave on time, or even early, to pick up the kids from daycare or whatever. 

They _,_ at least, are frowned upon by the elder surgeons, and have excluded themselves from a career in this department from the first time they uttered the words ”I have to leave early on Wednesday because the school closes at 15:30”. Well, they have it coming, really. But Even. _What’s his deal_. Isak feels his eyes narrow again.

”Well?” The team leader looks at him expectantly, impatiently.

”I – I’m sorry, what?” Isak takes a look around, and sees that everyone else already have cleared out.

”There are already five patients waiting. One is coded orange. Abdominal pain. Here’s the file. Get to work.” Without any further encouragement, she hands him the patient’s sheet and turns on her heel, leaving him a little embarrassed, but determined. He’s gonna make himself count this week.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t see Even again until later that afternoon. As usual, a day in the ER is busy from start to finish. When not talking to patients, asking the team nurse for blood tests, ordering different medications, trying to explain the impossible lack of hospital beds to concerned family members, Isak is glued to one of the computers in the tiny doctor’s office behind the counter. There’s no resting in the office, either – always googling dosages of different antibiotics or dictating the patients’ journals, trying his very best not to forgo any vital information. Preferably juggling less than five different patients at once.

At four o’clock, he’s been sitting down for a total of seven minutes that day, having eaten half a turkey sandwich from the vending machine for lunch, before being interrupted by the alarm that indicates an unstable patient on the way in.

Right now, he’s sitting in front of the computer again, trying to summarize the medical history of an 87-year old lady who is being admitted for a suspected volvulus. How was it again? Had she undergone surgery for appendicitis? Or was that the other patient in room 14, right next to her? His head is spinning. Just as he pushes the red record button on the dictaphone, he senses somebody entering the room. It doesn’t do anything to settle his dizziness.

He already knows who it is.

Even passes by behind his back, slumps down in the office chair in front of the other computer, picks up his dictaphone and starts reciting right away, in a toneless voice.

”Even.”

Isak is ignored. He tries again. ”Hey.”

Even spins around in his chair. ”What?” His face is pretty much expressionless. Isak suddenly doesn’t remember a word of what he was about to say. Even raises his eyebrows expectantly, but not in that playful way that he usually does. Today, he just looks tired.

”Was there anything you wanted to say? If so, I suggest you get on with it. I’m pretty sure you’re just as busy as I am.” When Isak’s brain does not provide him with the words he somehow knows were on the tip of his tongue just a moment ago, Even turns back around in his chair and starts speaking into the microphone, talking non-stop in an monotonous voice until he’s finished.

As Even gets up and leaves, Isak hasn’t gotten another word out of himself and into the recorder. Two more hours to go.

 

* * *

 

Five and a half hours later, Isak drags his feet up the stairs and stops outside his apartment door. Magnus is laughing somewhere inside, and Isak hopes that he’s on the phone or watching a movie or something; Isak is not sure he can handle talking to one more person today, and any potential guests in his house would most probably get the silent treatment from him.

He turns the key in the lock, slipping inside as quietly as possible.

”Isak!” Magnus enters the hall from the living room, dragging the last vowel out with a far too playful look on his face. ”Where have you been? Didn’t your shift end like, at half past four or something?”

Isak barely has the energy to look Magnus in the eyes, hoping that a look alone will convey how utterly exhausted he is and allow him to shuffle into his room without any further questions. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to work – Magnus is still watching him expectantly.

”Yeah. But… You know how the ER is. There’s no way anyone gets out of there on time.”

That actually is the truth. It’s not like he was staying late to make a good impression (nobody that valuable that he has to impress them is unimportant enough to hang around in the ER, anyway) – there are simply too many patients, and they all undergo different examinations, radiology, or you have to wait for the cardiologist to give the patient a free pass to go to a regular ward, and one thing just adds to another and then it’s nine o’clock.

Too bad he has to be there at half past seven tomorrow morning again.

”Well, I always kind of do?”

There it is again. The difference between doctors and – well, the rest. Isak’s responsibilities are far beyond Magnus’. He can’t just walk away and leave a patient in somebody else’s care. And nurses always go home on the dot. Nobody expects that he’ll do it, more the other way around. So, now that he’s basically standing on his own doorstep –  still not having eaten more than that half turkey sandwich and a Coke since this morning and being interrogated like this – it’s on the verge of filling him up completely.

Magnus must have sensed a death glare coming, though, because he actually takes a small step back and waves in the direction of the living room.

”Anyway, I was watching Zoolander again. You wanna join? There’s chips.”

Isak deflates. It does, quite undeniably, sound like a pretty solid idea. He follows Magnus into the living room, grateful for the distraction, and flops down on the couch.

As Alexander Skarsgård laughingly starts spraying his friends with gasoline at the gas station, Isak actually is able to smile a little. He looks at Magnus, his own stupid flatmate, and feels a tinkling of fondness somewhere inside. Here’s at least someone who he doesn’t have to put on a mask for. After a day at the ER, and in the vicinity of Even, shooting daggers at him with his eyes whenever they come close to each other, that’s all he can ask for.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up on the couch, TV silent and dark, with a blanket wrapped around him. Magnus’ bedroom door is closed, and it’s still dark outside. Isak wriggles his phone out of his jeans pocket. 04.13. He sets the alarm for 06.45, sighs and tries to go back to sleep.

His thoughts start to wander. Wonder if that the young girl he sent home after concluding that she in fact did not have appendicitis, is okay. Maybe he should have sent her to the gynaecologist. Shit! What if she had salpingitis? Or if she was pregnant?

Suddenly, he’s wide awake. The rest of yesterday’s patients start appearing in front of him, reminding him of everything he potentially missed, juggling five different cases at once on an empty stomach.

There’s no way of going back to sleep now. Sighing, he gets up to make some coffee and to fetch his vascular surgery book from his room.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week passes by in a similar fashion, busy days mixing together in a blur. By the end of each day, he falls asleep on the couch, in his bed, on the tram, and once on the wooden bench in the locker room for a little while, waking up with a back ache and the pattern of the sitting boards imprinted on his right cheek.

And each night, around four, he wakes up sweating, heart palpitating, suddenly wondering if he remembered to write down the correct dosage of a certain medication in the file of a patient he met two days ago, or if he really did examine the thyroid of that other patient like he intended. What if the cast he made for that fractured leg wasn’t tight enough? Maybe that guy will walk around on his broken ankle for weeks, without knowing that the fracture compresses, rendering him a crooked leg in the end?

By Friday morning, Isak is beyond exhausted. He is determined to last through this final day, though. Maybe he can even get off somewhat on time today.

 

* * *

 

Actually, Friday starts off better than any of the previous days this week. He has time to sit down for a full twenty-five minutes to eat a microwaved lasagna from the vending machine – plus a coffee afterwards – before his beeper sounds.

Even is still avoiding him like the plague, though. Despite being in the vicinity of each other for a full week, they haven’t actually spoken since their awkward exchange on Monday afternoon. And to be honest, they haven’t seen each other since, either – not very surprising, after all, considering how busy these ER weeks tend to be.

But when Even doesn’t show up during the quiet lunch on Friday, Isak starts considering the possibility that Even might actually be mad at him for real. Not just a fleeting annoyance that passes in a few days.

Thoughts like those churn in his mind as he goes into room 12 to see his very last patient of the week on Friday afternoon. A 67-year old man with a history of hypertension and heavy smoking. His wife is with him, taking charge immediately, telling Isak how she basically had to drag her husband into the hospital today since he’s been complaining about his back pain since lunch.

The man in question is clearly uncomfortable, but it’s obvious that he hardly can move and his wife insists that she can not, under any circumstances, take care of him at home right now as she herself suffers from back pains since years back – and no, painkillers won’t suffice, her husband simply has to be admitted by Isak or she’ll camp in the waiting room until somebody else does as she says.

Isak rolls his eyes internally. This scenario is more than familiar. When it becomes obvious that the wife really isn’t going to give in, and the patient in question actually seems to be in severe back pain, Isak caves and goes back to the small office to phone the nurse in charge at the orthopaedic ward. After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, he manages to make her spare a bed.

Finally, he can go home. No Even in sight, and maybe that’s just as well. Right now, Isak doesn’t want to think a single thought that’s more complicated than _bed_ or _beer_. Yeah. Maybe he’ll indulge himself and have just one tonight.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, Eva and Jonas are not the kind of couple that can’t go out without the other. As it happens, they are also admirably able to hang out with other people as a couple – so when Isak texts Jonas on his way home, Jonas immediately invites Isak along to their dinner. He considers not to join for a moment – maybe him and Eva should be allowed some time for themselves, after all. Plus, he knows that Jonas never says no to him, even if he maybe should sometimes.

However, his need to wind down after this week overshadows his doubts pretty easily, so he heads for the pizza place down the street from his best friends’ apartment. He finds Eva in a booth in the back, wrapped in a huge light-grey scarf and with Jonas’ yellow beanie on her head, waving a pizza slice happily at him.

“Hi!”

Eva is probably the only person, next to Jonas and Magnus, with whom he doesn’t have to pretend at all. Giving her a heartfelt hug, he slumps down on the red plastic sofa across from her.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” She smiles, a pizza crumb stuck in the corner of her mouth. “Jonas will be down in a second. Just finishing grading some papers.”

How Jonas can stand all those kids at his school – and their parents – Isak will never get. But, then, there’s not much he needs to get when it comes to Jonas. No matter if they don’t always understand each other’s life choices, they’re there for each other.

Always have been; always will be.

“Hey, Isak.” Jonas slides into the seat next to Eva, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Hi, babe.”

Eva smiles brightly, and kisses him, pizza crumb and all still on her lip, but Jonas just casts her heart eyes and kisses her back.

There was a time – buried way in the past, way down Isak’s insides – that this sight would have made him outright nauseous.

Eva is still the only one who knows what he did to break her and Jonas apart in their first year, but it’s his firm belief that she still thinks the reason for his betrayal was his supposed crush on her.

She forgave him long ago – why, he’s still not really sure – but it’s the only thing he can feel chafing between him and Jonas. Though Jonas doesn’t know – and never will.

It’s in the past now, anyway.

And while his slight obsession with Jonas back then (because that’s how he sees it: an emotional attachment overinflated with Jonas’ unwavering loyalty through the worst of his family drama) is long faded, it’s probably still the only time he’s let himself become so attached to another person.

Good thing he focuses on more important things now.

Plus, everyone around him seem to have accepted that he’s not too interested in a relationship, or rather, not prioritizing it. They all know that he has a very demanding job, after all.

“What’s up?” Jonas turns to Isak, grabbing a pizza slice from Eva’s plate without asking.

Something tugs at Isak’s stomach with that. There’s something so domestic and natural about it that he feels a bit lost, albeit warm inside at the same time. He supposes he’s just really happy that his two best friends can have this, together.

“Well, you know. Nothing really. Spent the week at the ER. Busy as fuck.”

“Ah, you worked with Magnus, then!” Eva lightens up. “How is that, really? Does he drive the patients mad with his stupid ramblings?” she laughs, and Jonas chuckles appreciatively beside her. “Or, wait - maybe he’s like, really serious, and sternly corrects everyone who does anything wrong? That would be something to see!”

“Ha! Magnus is just a nurse, for Christ’s sake,” Isak huffs. “It’s not like he has to be really serious on the job.”

Jonas stops laughing, and eyes him seriously.

“Isak.”

“Yeah?”

_What._

Jonas gives him a disappointed look.

Isak rolls his eyes, although he knows he’s got nothing for it. He already knows what comes next.

“There is just as much worth to any human being as to yourself, and everyone is equally necessary.” Jonas points at him sharply with his fork, pizza salad hanging down from it. “Especially when it comes to saving other people’s lives. None of you would last a day without the other in a hospital.”

Fucking Jonas. Always so goddamn righteous.

“Whatever,” is all he manages.

“You know I’m right, Isak. And I know you – you really don’t think like that deep down, because you do care about the people around you, even if Eva and I are the only ones who could guess.”

Isak glares at him. It should be fucking illegal to read his mind like that.

“I mean, why did you even want to be a doctor in the first place? It’s a job where you help people, right?”

Well, yes. Technically, it is. It’s just not really that easy to remember, between all the stress he has both over his daily work duties and his future career.

Initially, he did have an ambition to do some kind of good for others when he applied to the medical programme at UiO. Though, in hindsight, it was just as much because of his need to prove to himself – and to others – that he was good enough. Deep down, he knows that at that time he desperately needed some sense of direction in life. And what could be better than a six-year long, intensely demanding, time-consuming education?  Something that certainly would keep him occupied enough for the next foreseeable future to not have to think too much about other things.

It was partly that. And his love for biology.

(If a small part of him suggests that it might have had something to do with understanding what was happening to his mother at the time, he doesn’t have to listen).

The kind of almost-honesty that hits close enough to home has saved him before – so Isak looks up at his best friend, biting his lip.

“Yeah. Fuck.” He fingers at a fry at the edge of Eva’s plate. “I’m sorry, Jonas. I just had a really stressful week.”

“Sure. I get it.” Jonas watches him for a beat, but appears content with it, eventually. He looks up at Eva, who just shrugs and shoots Isak a sly smile.

“Don’t forget that we know how squishy you are deep down, Isak. You’re not fooling me, at least.”

Her smile turns warm, and she leans across the table to put a soft hand on his cheek. And he almost finds himself leaning into the touch.

He picks up a fry from her plate instead and throws it at her.

“What the hell, Isak!” she laughs, incredulous.

“That’s for talking about my feelings.”

He picks up another one.

“And this one is for not ordering a Fanta for me before I got here.” He smiles wickedly and aims, but Eva manages to get her hand out and grab his wrist.

“Isak! Noo!” She giggles, high-pitched, and Isak lets himself go and laughs with her, letting their hands slide down on the table together.

It feels, just a little bit, like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all of you, for reading and commenting on this fic - you make me so happy.
> 
> There are descriptions of some mental health issues in this chapter - if that's something that troubles you and you want to know more beforehand, please see the end notes.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

On Monday morning, Isak walks into the ward feeling kind of rested and renewed, despite the usual lack of sleep. As he rounds the corner, preparing to plop down in one of the chairs in the meeting room for the morning conference, he sees Emma’s back in front of him.

That’s right. They’re both in this ward this week. All week.

Well, Isak is quite determined to be the bigger person today. There’s still a slight discomfort churning deep down in his guts, and it sounds suspiciously much like something along the lines of _where is Even_. If he listens carefully – which he might have done when he woke up at half past four this morning, it might even feel a little like _maybe I_ _should have apologized to him_.

When he gets to the meeting room, Emma and him are the only ones there. She looks at him with an expression somewhere between compassion, concern and pity. What now.

”I heard, and I’m so sorry, Isak,” she blurts out, taking a step forward when she spots him.

”I’m sorry? You’re sorry? About what?”

Her face falls. ”I mean it. I’m not being sarcastic, if that’s what you think. I _am_ sorry.”

”Yeah. You keep saying that.” His patience is nearing its end.

”No, I mean… it wasn’t your fault, you know? It could have happened to anybody. Really, Isak. Everybody agrees on that. And at least you admitted him. That must count for something, right?”

_What_. Suddenly, he feels cold all over.

Emma must sense that he’s not following, since she proceeds with some kind of caution. ”There was a man, like, in his late sixties, or so? You admitted him on Friday afternoon, to the orthopaedic ward. Because of his back pain?”

Isak can’t do much else than nod, slowly and stiffly.

”Well, he –”

Oh god. _Spare me_. Just spit it out.

”He collapsed Saturday morning, during the rounds. It was a ruptured aortic aneurysm. They transferred him to the operating room almost right away, you know, but –”

_Back pain. Oh my fucking God. How could I have been so stupid._ The signs were all there.

Hypertension. The smoking. The sudden onset without any kind of trauma. Oh my God. He can’t look any of the surgeons in the eye right now. This is a fucking school book example of misjudgement. He’s pretty sure that they had a case report almost exactly like this at a seminar in his seventh term.

This can’t be happening. It’s completely unreal. All he knows is that he has to get out of here. Right now. Before anyone else gets here and can judge him to his face, not only to his back. He can’t even conjure up some kind of excuse, just keeps staring at Emma with what he’s sure must show off as some kind of fear while backing out, finally managing to turn on his heels and flee down the corridor.

There’s some kind of faint ”Isak!” shouted out behind him. Perhaps by Emma – he’s not really capable of telling any voices apart right now – but he manages to make his way out of the ward and into the elevator without stumbling into anyone else.

He makes it as far as the intern’s locker room down in the culvert, before panic overtakes him and his breathing becomes far too constricted to move, let alone see anything around him. He sinks down on the wooden bench between the lockers and tries to focus on sitting upright, but black dots keep creeping into his field of vision from the sides, making him lose all sense of direction, and he has to lie down on his side, barely managing to keep from falling down on the floor.

_Am I finished now? Is this the end? Will I ever be able to go back up there?_

Oh God. He can’t breathe. His heart is beating like crazy, and for a faint second the thought that he is going to die as well crosses his mind.

He’s had enough panic attacks to know that he is, in fact, not going to die, but how he’s supposed to live, he doesn’t know.

He has to get out of here. No, that’s not enough, he needs to get out of himself, of his own skin, of his head but there is no way to escape, and he tries to control his breathing, not really succeeding, and only registers vaguely an opening and closing of the door somewhere in the distance.

”Isak?” a somewhat familiar voice calls out, near him but somehow still far away. ”Isak, are you okay?!”

There is no way that Isak is able to answer that right now, but as he tries to nod, he feels big hands settling lightly on his forearms.

”Listen, Isak. Calm down. I’m here, okay? Try to breathe with me.”

Even. It’s Even. Oh god. This is so bad. Isak is at least collected enough to understand that this is far beyond what he would want anyone to see, perhaps Even least of all people. But he can’t help but notice that the steady presence of those hands, not holding him too tight or suffocating him in any way, just resting on his upper arms, is grounding him somehow, helping him calm down, slowly and steadily.

”It’s okay, Isak.”

No, it’s not, he wants to shout. Nothing about this is even nearly okay. But feeling his breathing calm down, his racing heart slowing, his vision gradually returning, he cannot do much else than go with it, more or less powerless about it. He’s starting to be able to make out Even’s features in front of him, blurry at first, but as his vision clears up, what he sees makes him unable to look away.

Even is just looking at him with those blue eyes, he just looks and looks and looks, and his expression is so full of concern and honesty and something else that Isak cannot name, but it almost makes his heart stop.

”I… um… sorry you had to walk in on this,” he croaks, eventually, managing to avert his eyes and look down at in his lap, Even’s hands still gripping Isaks forearms softly.

”Do you want to talk about it?”

Isak hesitates. There is no pushing from Even’s side, not at all, and that is what actually makes him consider telling, if only for a fleeting second.

”Um. Not really.” He glances up, meeting Even’s gaze where there’s nothing but patience and understanding. _Where did this come from_.

”Okay.”

This is so weird. Why did Even even come here now? It’s probably way past the rounds now, anyway.

”Where… I mean… you’re late.”

”Yeah. I had a thing in the morning. So they already know I’m coming in late today. Don’t worry about it.”

A pang of bad conscience runs through Isak – he hadn’t even considered that he could be holding Even up, making him miss out on some cool surgery or whatever.

”I – think I’m gonna go home, actually. Not feeling too well.”

”I can see that.” Even nods. ”Want me to come with you?”

What. What? God, no, now that Isak’s starting to regain some form of composure he begins to realize that he should get out of here, and alone.

”No. No, I’m fine. Wouldn’t want you to catch – whatever it is that I have. Something from the ER last week, most likely.”

Even eyes him seriously, but doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet for a beat.

”Okay,” Even says at last. ”Are you fit to change by yourself? You’re not gonna faint or something if I go to the bathroom now?”

”No. I’m fine. Or, no, yeah. You know. But, yeah, I promise.”

After Even locks the door to the bathroom, Isak gets changed at express speed, feeling a bit dizzy but managing to fully get dressed and almost get all the way to the door before Even returns.

”Hey.”

Isak turns around at the sound of Even’s voice.

”Take care, Isak.”

Even’s gaze is intense like the sun itself, almost burning into Isak’s eyes. The air thickens and time stands still for a beat, again. Isak can’t look away, is somehow frozen into place. Finally, he gathers the strength to slowly turn around, hand on the door handle.

”Yeah. You too.”

As he pulls the hood of his jacket up, at least partly being able to hide his face from anyone who would recognize him down here, he realizes that he didn’t even think about thanking Even. He keeps thinking about why as he walks to the tram. He must have been so shook from the panic that he forgot. It’s not so strange, is it? Or should he text Even and thank him, now? Maybe that would just be weird. They don’t text, after all. Apart from the group chat, they haven’t had any private exchanges on the phone at all. Even would probably find it a bit clingy.

Sitting on the tram, he thinks a bit more. How quickly he calmed down from the panic attack (he can’t deny that it definitely was one) much faster and easier than he can remember that he ever has before. There is a nagging feeling somewhere in the back of his head that it might have had something to do with Even’s presence. _Really?_ Isak thinks again. And because he’s so exhausted, maybe because his walls are slightly down after his breakdown, he might agree.

A very small part of his brain suggests that another part of Isak would have wanted Even to come with him after all. Make sure that he got home okay. Just to keep him calm, now that Isak’s admitted that Even’s presence was soothing, somehow.

He does not admit to himself, however, that even now, sitting alone on the tram, the bare thought of Even keeps him company.

When he gets home, undresses and crawls into bed, he takes his phone with him. He hesitates for a bit, turns it around in his hands, turns the thoughts around in his head. Before he decides to shut his eyes, he types a quick text.

 

_To Even_

_09:17_

Thank you.

 

He goes to sleep, strangely calm and content, despite what led him back to bed in the first place.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up three hours later, confused at first at the daylight streaming in through the bedroom window, then remembering. _Shit_. The calm feeling that Even’s presence surrounded him with, even in the distance through the ride home, dissipates quickly and his mind is instead filled with anguish over his misjudgement of the man with the back pain.

Fuck. He has to go back to work. Not today, though. Tomorrow.

But how? Everyone surely knows by now. News like this travel fast through hospitals, even huge ones like Ullevål. All of his fellow interns are sure to know. Probably most of the surgeons too, maybe even important people in other departments. God. He is so _fucked_. Is it this easy to terminate a career before it has even properly started?

He’ll have to work in a health center. Or in child psychiatry. They’ll take almost anybody, after all. Even those who cannot stand the pressure of a regular week in the ER, who get so exhausted from it that they start drifting and misjudge even the clearest of cases.

He might just as well start getting used to the thought. Maybe he should distract himself with some Hearthstone first. His phone isn’t on his bedside table, though. He reaches under the duvet and finds it, warm, lying by his side. Huh.

Suddenly, the memory rushes to him, unbidden. Oh God. That’s right. He texted Even. Even who also, most definitely, knows by now.

Peeking with only one eye, like it somehow would soften the blow, he taps the home button and sees a string of messages from the corner of his eye. A deep breath, and then he starts from the bottom.

 

_From Even_

_09:32_

Don’t worry about it.

_09:33_

And you’re welcome.

 

_From Magnus_

_11.13_

dude! I called the ward to see if you wanted to have lunch

but they said you went home sick

wtf are you okay bro?

_11.21_

isak

come on

iiiiiisak

_11.37_

just ran into Even

and man it’s okay

stuff like that happens all the time

promise

 

Yeah. From Magnus’ point of view, it probably does. What Magnus keeps forgetting, though, is that this is Isak’s fault. Nobody else’s.

And everyone knows.

 

* * *

 

It takes quite a lot of willpower to get up, get dressed, and force himself to follow through his morning routine the next day, finally entering the meeting room in the ward. Isak makes sure to be there early to avoid walking in and catching everyone’s eye. It might be easier to blend in like this. He feels vaguely sick, and hopes he’ll make it through the morning meeting without fainting.

Surprisingly, everyone acts pretty much like normal when they arrive, one by one. Greet him with a fleeting interest, nothing special, the residents and consultants chatting amongst themselves. It’s not enough to settle Isak’s nerves, though. Still, he keeps his eyes on the table, trying to breathe steady, and only occasionally letting his gaze flicker to the door to see who else comes in.

One of the last to enter is Even. He walks all the way around the huge table and takes a seat in an empty chair on Isak’s left side.

”Hi.”

Even’s smile is small, warm, and void of pity or concern. That strange calm once again spreads from somewhere in Isak’s chest out to his limbs, gradually seeping into his mind, making him breathe again.

”Hi.” Isak feels himself unintentionally smiling back. He composes himself. ”Are you supposed to be here? Aren’t you in the operating room today?”

”Well, Emma wanted to change, some hemithyroidectomy she wanted to see. So we just switched places today. No big deal.”

It doesn’t really add up in Isak’s head – who would choose _this_ over _that_ – but right now, he’ll take what he can get. He dares another glance up at Even’s face. And that’s when it hits him.

Isak is glad that he’s here.

The meeting starts, then, not a word about any broken aortic aneurysms or other misjudgements. A quick report from the night shift, a recap of the patients currently admitted in the ward, the plan for the day. This feels almost normal. Isak can breathe.

When the meeting is adjourned and Isak stands up to join the consultant surgeon for the rounds, he feels a hand on his right shoulder. He nervously turns around and finds himself looking up into the face of the chief physician. His stomach sinks.

”Isak?”

Isak can barely nod, let alone look him in the eye.

”Can you stay behind for a moment?”

This is it, then. The end.

”I just wanted to tell you something. When I was your age, I had a case in the ER. Much similar to the one you had on Friday.”

Of course.

”Well, I sent the patient home. He was found, at home, deceased, the next day. I only know because he happened to live next door to my aunt. I found out a few days later, and put two and two together.”

Okay. Isak really doesn’t know why the chief physician’s even bothering with this. Where is this going?

“Actually, I wanted to remind you that you did the right thing, admitting the patient. Since he already was in the hospital, we had time to take him to the operating room.”

What. They saved him?

”He… lived? I thought he died?”

”Well. He did live. But, he failed to wake up in the postoperative ward. Major stroke. Confirmed on CT. Passed away Sunday night.”

_What_.

”It is a known perioperative complication, as I am sure you are aware of.”

_It wasn’t my fault._

”Isak? No more staying home. These things will keep happening, and there’s no point in letting it get to you. Now get back in the game. You have rounds to attend, don’t you?”

And with a slap on Isak’s upper back, he’s gone. Isak stands rooted to the spot, trying to process what just happened. Somehow, he feels light-headed as well as light-hearted. As he enters the smaller office down the ward, ready to start the rounds, and sees Even sitting in the office chair in front of the computer, he feels like he can take on anything.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in weeks, Isak actually has a nice day. Even though it’s at the ward, his least favourite place (perhaps second to the ER, though, now that he thinks about it). And he would lie if he didn’t admit that it’s partially because of Even.

For some reason, Even has forgiven Isak for his outburst at the Friday pub and has returned to being completely friendly. It is a little confusing, but Isak does not look this gift horse in the mouth. He hasn’t forgotten yesterday, and that what could have been the most embarrassing incident of his life: being found hyperventilating by the lockers in the basement - has become some kind of turning point. He can’t say why, but again, he suspects that it might have had something to do with Even.

The day passes by quicker than he thought was possible. They talk, they joke, and they actually work surprisingly well together, sharing the tasks at hand and getting finished much earlier than usual.

They walk together to the tram in the chilly March afternoon. The snow is almost melted away completely from the sidewalks by now, and there’s that expectant feeling to the air that early spring provides. It holds promises of new beginnings, adventure, hope.

Entering the tram, they sit down next to each other in a fairly comfortable silence. Even hands him a bag of chewing gum, an eyebrow raised in silent question, and he accepts it. It tastes of strawberry, and Isak recognizes it. It’s the way Even always smells. It reminds him of long summer days when he was seven, of candy sneaked from the store around the corner when he was fourteen, of his mother’s shampoo.

Now, though, the scent will also probably be forever categorized under Even in his head, together with all the other Even things he’s collected so far. Like, the way his eyes crinkled as they laughed about that old lady in bed 13:3 earlier. The rumble of his laughter when they talked about how she always puts her makeup on before rounds and smiles at them both in a ridiculously flirty way. The spark that he could swear flew between their fingers as their hands accidentally brushed, when they sat in front of the computer in the office.

As the tram rattles away, Isak thinks about that he’s, believe it or not, relaxed, for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. Probably since he was twelve, or something. Or when he was high a couple of weeks ago.

Isak isn’t able to let this newfound peace go, though. It kind of doesn’t make sense, that’s all.

”Why are you so nice to me again?”

”Hm?” Even seems to have been deep in thought, because he looks up in confusion, hair soft and falling down on his forehead.

”I mean, I actually was kind of a dick to you. Before. And you… you were pretty nice. Friendly. I get it if you were mad at me after, you know, that Friday thing, and last week and all, but it’s – we’re okay now, I think? And I guess I kind of don’t know why.”

Even blinks and looks down in his lap.

”Isak, I already told you. I like you, and I'd like to be your friend.”

”Yeah, I know. It’s just that…” He takes a breath. ”I’m not sure that I deserve it?”

Where does this come from? When has Isak ever been able to let such thoughts consciously form in his head, let alone be voiced out loud to another person? Someone he does, admittedly, not know very well. Why does Even’s mere presence affect him this much?

But somehow, Even shrinks a little, and when he looks up again, there’s a flicker of something akin to nervousness in his eyes.

”I… kind of have a confession to make?”

”Oh?”

”Well, I – kind of, before, I thought that you seemed pretty nice,” Even starts. ”And, I did want to get to know you, just like I said. But then again, I sometimes felt like I couldn’t really… get you? You have everything working for you. I mean, being so good at everything – I didn’t think we were really on the same page. But after I stepped in on you panicking about that patient yesterday – well, I didn’t know what had happened exactly just then, but i found out, of course – I was kind of surprised, and –”

Even hesitates for a bit. Isak can’t get a single word out of his throat at the moment, so he just waits.

”It’s gonna sound a bit weird, I know. But I guess I just realized that we’re not so different from each other. That you have your own stuff to carry, too. I’m sorry for not seeing that before. And I feel a little like a kind of a dick, now, too. I guess I was a little unfair.”

Isak can’t believe his ears. What is this? Even apologizing to _him?_ And he actually seems honest, even nervous about it? That worried look does not suit Even well. Or, well, you know.

”It’s okay, Even. Fuck. I should be the one apologizing. No, really, I’m – sorry.”

The crease on Evens’ forehead dissipates, and the glitter in his eyes returns together with a tentative, almost playful smile.

”Guess we’re both dicks, then.”

Isak’s breath hitches for a second, and then he exhales and smiles back.

”Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a moment more, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it now. Isak watches Even’s hands lying in his lap, playing with a loose thread at the seam of his jeans. He remembers how those big hands felt when holding on to his upper arms, firmly but softly at the same time, and again he is filled with that strange sense of calm.

He feels… content. It is a weird, and kind of new sensation. But natural in a way. Like _this_ has been there, waiting for him, for the longest time, and now he finally found it and settles into it completely without effort. He just wants to stay here.

A recorded voice announces the next stop, and Even looks up.

”My stop.”

Isak realizes, then, that Even is waiting for him to rise from his seat to let him out. He moves his legs to the side as the tram comes to a halt.

”Oh, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

”Yeah. Tomorrow.”

”See you then, Isak.”

And with that, Even gets out, and the tram doors close behind him.

 

* * *

 

The next day, they fall into the same rhythm – working together, cooperating without effort, talking about everything and nothing – and it all just feels so easy. They have lunch together, and since they worked so fast, they have time for a quick walk around the hospital grounds. Even doesn’t mention that he was supposed to be in the operating room today and must have switched with Emma once again - and neither does Isak.

He doesn’t rock the boat.

Thursday is pretty much the same, and Friday too. Isak feels a bit silly, but he actually looks forward to going to work all that week. And Friday afternoon, sitting on the tram with Even, he realizes:

He’s at peace.

The thought of coming home to an empty apartment, Magnus working on this Friday night, only company being his anatomy books and the tv, doesn’t give him the usual feeling of relief, but one of emptiness and a queer longing. So, wanting to prolong this state of contentment and ease for a bit longer, he blurts out:

”You wanna hang out for a while? Now, or later, I mean?”

Even looks to him with a smile that Isak, for lack of better words, would call fond, but at the same time gives off an air of trying to let him down easy.

”Actually, I already have plans with Sonja. Sorry. Another time, though. I would like that.”

Sonja? Does he know someone named Sonja? The confusion must have been apparent on his face, because Even continues without being prompted.

”My girlfriend?”

That’s right. His girlfriend.

”I thought I told everyone on the first day where we all introduced ourselves to the group. Maybe I just forgot. When you’ve been together with someone since high school, it’s just such a natural part of my life that I sometimes forget.”

Did he really talk about her then? Isak can’t remember. To be honest, he doesn’t remember anything that anyone said. He was so focused on what he was going to share, that he probably just obsessed over himself, blocking out everything and everyone else. As usual.

”Yeah. No. I’m sure you did. I just… I forgot, I guess.” He tries to grin, and does his best not to show the disappointment on his face.

He could always call Jonas, he guesses.

As the tram reaches Even’s stop and he gets off, Isak sees a blonde girl through the window, leaning against the glass of the bus shelter. She looks up and her face breaks into a wide, beautiful smile as she catches sight of Even. They embrace, and before the tram starts to pull away, they start kissing, and haven’t stopped when Isak loses sight of them. They look good together, Isak thinks. Happy. Of course. Who wouldn’t be happy around Even.

 

* * *

 

Turns out that Jonas is at some family dinner until around nine, but he promises to come over right away with a six-pack and takeaway when he gets off. That gives Isak time to lie in his bed and try not to overthink.

It is hard, though. This week has been… unusual. It’s like something has shifted inside him, something he is not quite ready to name.

As Jonas arrives a bit later, Isak is still on his back in his bed. (Jonas has learned to let himself in with his spare key a long time ago).

”What’s up, man? Tired as usual?” Jonas unceremoniously dumps his jacket and backpack on Isak’s bedroom floor, fishing out the beers and sinking down beside Isak on the bed.

”Nah, not too bad. It’s been a good week, actually.”

Jonas raises his eyebrows and smiles. It’s definitely been a while since he’s heard Isak say _that_.

”That’s good to hear, Isak. Any specific reason, or…?” Jonas face is only open and friendly, not teasing at all. God, Isak doesn’t deserve him sometimes.

”It’s just that… I’ve made a new friend, I think.” And that certainly isn’t something that Jonas is used to hear from him. His eyes grow bigger and he looks surprised, but also sincerely happy. ”It’s just… I feel really weird, but I think it’s been good for me?”

”Wow, Isak. You finally managed to realize what I’ve been thinking for the past seven years.”

”Fuck you.” Isak scowls, but can’t help but laugh, and shoves Jonas halfway out of the bed.

”Seriously, though. I’m happy for you. Who is this new friend, then?”

Isak sighs. He’d better start from the beginning, or it won’t make much sense. So he tells Jonas about the patient with the back pain, about his breakdown, his day in bed, and the way that the week unfolded after that. He leaves out the part about the Friday pub the week before, and the animosity between him and Even that followed. That’s in the past now, anyway.

Jonas nods and smiles during his recollection, but when Isak’s finished, Jonas brow is creased.

”I haven’t seen you break down like that since high school, Isak. Not since everything… you know.”

”Yeah, I guess.” The truth is that Isak hasn’t allowed himself to break down like that for a long time, either.

”I wish I could have been there for you.” Jonas’ expression is serious. ”But it sounds like that Even guy did a good job, if not even better than I could have.”

”Nah. Well, he did, but that last part isn’t true, you know.” Isak looks up at his best friend and it just feels like somehow, after this week, even his friendship with Jonas has shifted into a familiar balance that hasn’t been there for quite some time.

”Man, that’s sappy.” Jonas laughs. ”What happened to you?” But there’s not a trace of worry or bitterness in his voice, and Isak can’t help but laugh with him. ”But wait, is this the same Even that Magnus has been going on about? Who is he, anyway?”

Yeah. Who is he. They soon stray from the subject for the rest of the night, as they move on to the games console and smoke a joint by Isak’s bedroom window. But, as Jonas leaves at two in the morning to go home to his and Eva’s apartment, Isak’s thoughts return to Even. What does Isak really know about him?

He is at least as old as Isak is, that’s for sure. Isak started university right away after high school, good enough grades to enter the medical programme without gap years for extra studying. And, due to his hard work, he could start his internship in almost record time after graduating. Maybe Even is a little older than him. He looks like he is, at least. Isak wonders what he might have been doing so far, besides studying. He wasn’t in Isak’s year in UiO, or the year before or after. Thinking about it now, Isak is pretty sure that he would have noticed Even if he went to UiO at all.

He is pretty tall, after all.

What else? He has a girlfriend. Sonja. She looks about the same age as Even does. (She’s tall, too, his brain provides for some reason).

And Isak is sure that he has heard Even talk about some kind of film club that he attends. Or was it book club? Maybe some writing class? Suddenly, Isak wishes that he had paid more attention that first day when everyone presented themselves.

He did notice Even on that first day, if he’s honest with himself. There just was something, some sort of energy emanating from Even that hinted to Isak that they would like each other. Isak wonders for a brief second why he didn’t act on it. The truth is, it is much easier to let people slide. Go about their own ways, just like Isak always has gone about his. He’s not the kind to warm up to new people easily. Mostly, it’s just exhausting to get to know anyone. He’s had too much going on for a long time to have the energy to bring more people into his life than he already has.

His friends have all been his friends for a very long time. Since high school, actually. The ones he made before everything with his parents went down in his last year at Nissen and he barely had the energy for anything anymore, except studying and focusing on the only single thing he felt like he could control right then: his grades and his professional future. Getting into medical school in the late spring of his third year was such a relief. He knew what he would be doing for the next six years; a constant in his otherwise chaotic life.

Non-stop studying, plus dedicating most of his free time to schoolwork, was a way of keeping himself sane for the next few years. As he still lived at home for the first four years of medical school, the library was his safe haven; the quiet such a contrast from how it usually went down at his parent’s place.

When his father finally decided to sell the house to afford to let his mother move into the care facility that she had needed for a long time, a sufficient amount of money was left for Isak to be able to rent his own place. Since Jonas had moved in with Eva, Magnus and Isak decided to join up. Magnus had already graduated from the nurse programme and started working at the ER, so together, they could afford the pretty decent two-bedroom apartment they still rent. Sometimes, Isak regretted the decision of moving in together with Magnus, dreaming of his own, silent space. But truth be told, he secretly enjoyed not being alone all the time. And since Magnus worked shifts as an ER nurse, they saw each other just about the right amount of time.

All in all, he didn’t make many new friends during his university years – focusing on keeping the ones he already had took enough time. He guesses that it was the same when he started his internship – and sure, that could partly explain his lack of attention to his fellow interns’ life stories.

Now, almost five months later, Isak falls asleep at last, and his last thoughts are about what he’s going to ask Even about when they see each other on Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental health issues warning: there is a somewhat detailed description of Isak having a panic attack in this chapter.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't for a lovely American friend, this chapter would have contained repeated inaccurate descriptions of surgical masks - thank you!
> 
> And, just a reminder that [vesperthine](vesperthine.tumblr.com) is the best beta and human being out there.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

Walking from the tram into the hospital’s main entrance on Monday morning, Isak realizes that there’s only one month left of his surgical rotation. Next stop is internal medicine for six months, and then the final six months of general practice at a health center. He used to fill up with a sense of dread at the thought of doing something else than surgery, but this morning, it feels surprisingly okay. He’ll live. It’s just a year, and then he can go back here, where he belongs.

If they’ll let him, that is. He really needs to step up his game now for the final month, he decides. He has let himself get a bit distracted lately. From now on, he’ll focus.

Five minutes later, as he enters the locker room at the operation ward, however, all such thoughts vanish from his head. Because as he turns around the corner to the interns’ row of lockers, he bumps into Even, who is in the process of changing into green scrubs. Shirtless, Even turns around and looks him in the eyes.

”Hey,” he says and smiles.

All the blood in Isak’s body rushes from his head and down to his feet, or, at least, some lower parts of his body. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Even shirtless in here before, but this -  _ what is this _ . 

It’s like everything he’s ever known jumbles in his head and he can’t even look back into Even’s eyes. Instead, his gaze follows Even’s long neck, down the row of birthmarks to his collarbones, to his pale chest and his slightly defined abs that stand out like they’re chiseled from marble or something. Like that statue that he saw once when he went to the art museum as a kid. Yeah. Think about the museum.

”Eh – hey.”

”Had a good weekend?”

Isak very deliberately forces himself to look Even in the eyes.

”Yeah. Pretty, you know, uneventful. But good. You?”

He thinks about the last time he saw Even. With Sonja, at the tram stop. They have probably hung out all weekend. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to know.

”Nothing special. But it was okay. Kind of looked forward to coming here today, though.”

What.  _ Why _ .

”Eh… okay?”

”Yeah, you know. Operating week. It’s always fun. Plus, we’ll get to hang out together this week as well.”

_ Oh _ .

How is he even gonna survive this week, let alone this very moment?

Even stretches to reach the top shelf of his locker, presumably reaching for some clean scrubs or something, and his jeans slide down a little, revealing the top of his hip bone and Jesus. Isak has to get out of here. Like, now. He turns on the spot and runs for cover in the nearest spot he can find: the toilet.

He locks the door with haste, sits down on the seat, tries to breathe and fathom what on Earth is going on inside his head. And his stomach, not to mention his chest. And, yeah, well. His pants, too.

That is possibly the biggest question of them all.  _ What the fuck _ . He has never, ever, ever felt anything even remotely like this before. Seeing Even standing there, like that, totally unaware of how he made Isak’s blood rush at the mere sight of his half-naked body. Isak feels a bit dizzy, just thinking about it.

An unbidden memory rushes forward – of stubble against his cheek, the smell of after-shave and beer and a strong, gentle hand around his neck.  _ No _ . _ Not the same.  _ He fists his hands and tries to regain composure, head swimming with confusion.

”Eh… Isak?” Even’s voice sounds muffled through the door.

Oh god. That’s right. Even is still out there, albeit hopefully clothed by now.

”I’m – coming. Soon. Just had a little too much breakfast.” What is he even saying. Stop it. Like, now. ”I’ll see you out there in a bit, okay?”

”Yeah. Are you sure you’re okay in there?”

”Absolutely. Yeah. I’ll just – see you out there, okay?”

”Sure. See you soon.”

And with that, the sound of Even’s footsteps start and then recede as he walks out the door.

Isak couldn’t be more confused. He thinks, or tries to, turning everything that happened last week around in his head. Perhaps, he thinks, he was vulnerable after his panic attack, and Even was there to help him, and so he clinged on to him in quite an emotional manner. Unhealthy, almost. Yes. This must be some kind of – obsession, if you will. It’s never a good idea to confuse one thing with the other.

What did he tell himself when he walked in here, just a little while ago? Focus. He was supposed to  _ focus _ .

He splashes his face with cold water from the tap, drinks a little from his hand and feels the icy liquid cool his insides somewhat. He looks in the mirror and sees his still flushed face. Is this him? Someone who gets a hangup because he has made a new friend for the first time in years? Is he that emotionally vulnerable? That he suddenly can’t stop staring and thinking about his co-worker’s body, just because they have been nice to him for not even a week?

Definitely not healthy behaviour.

With a deep breath, he exits the toilet and changes into green scrubs. Word of the day.  _ Focus _ .

 

* * *

 

There is an emergency laparotomy in operating room number six. Isak peers through the little glass window in the door, and from what he can make out from here, they seem to just have started. He looks at the computer screen above the door, the ongoing surgeries plotted as different-coloured bars across the screen, with the name of the procedure and the responsible surgeon visible. Dr Johansen is the one doing the laparotomy, Isak can read. That’s good. Dr Johansen has been nice to him on numerous occasions, and Isak will probably be allowed if he enters now, before they have properly started, and asks politely. He looks through the window again, and that’s dr Johansen getting herself ready, reaching her hand out to the nurse to be handed the scalpel and start opening the patient’s stomach.

Beside dr Johansen, of  _ fucking _ course, stands Even. Isak’s stomach sinks.

But, what did he tell himself right before walking out here?

That’s right. This is not going to stop him. No turning back. No going home to lie in bed. No chickening out. He takes a deep breath, and carefully but decidedly pulls the door open.

 

* * *

 

Just like Isak hoped, he is welcome to join the procedure. He even gets to change into a sterile gown, and begins with, as always, to hold a hook down the wound, allowing the surgeon to get a better field of view. Even holds the hook from the other side, and acts very interested as always,  _ hmm _ ing and  _ aah _ ing in all the right places as dr Johansen explains and points to different structures.

Isak is focusing. Hard. He focuses so well, that when dr Johansen asks him a question he doesn’t hear a thing.

”Oh. I’m sorry?”

”I said, Isak, could you hold this for me?”

And she hands Isak the  _ diathermy forceps _ . Dr Johansen points to different small blood vessels in the soft parts of the abdomen that need coagulating to stop bleeding, and Isak is allowed to pinch them with the forceps, emanating an oozing sound as the bleeding stops. What a feeling. He is doing something important. If it wasn’t for him, the patient would  _ bleed _ .

After a while, dr Johansen locates the small perforation in the colon that caused the patient to end up here in the first place, and closes the tiny hole with a few careful sutures. She lets Even hold the suction tube and clean up all the liquid and debris from further down in the patient’s abdomen, and Even’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at the gurgling sounds the tube makes.  _ God _ .  _ He is such a nerd _ . But Isak couldn’t care less right now. He even finds it a bit endearing.

Finally, Isak is allowed to close the wound with the stapling machine. A small part of him wishes that they would have used sutures to close the wound – then he could have shown dr Johansen that he knows how to do intracutaneous stitches – but he knows that the likelihood of reoperation is high in this type of circumstances, and therefore staples are almost always used. Well, stapling a wound actually is fun, much more fun than he had expected. When he’s finished, dr Johansen smiles at them both. And she  _ thanks _ them for helping her.

Isak is in heaven as they leave the operating room together. He turns to Even and they look at each other, like they both have a hard time believing what just happened in there.

”How cool was that?” Isak half-whispers, not wanting it to be too obvious what a newbie he is.

”I know!” Even almost giggles.

”Oh my god!” Isak retorts.

And from nowhere, Even steps forward and almost lifts him up in an excited, happy hug.

It takes a short moment for Isak to process what is happening before he has time to freak out again. By then, Even has let go of him and the only evidence of what just happened are some creases on the front of his scrubs and his ever so fast-beating heart.

”Let’s have some coffee”, Even says and quickly walks away towards the break room down the corridor.

Isak sees no choice but to follow.

 

* * *

 

If last week made Isak feel like everything slotted into place, this week is nothing short of confusing.

They do have coffee together after the operation on Monday morning, but Isak can’t find it in himself to concentrate on anything Even says, only being able to focus on his hands that he waves around excitedly whilst recalling all the details of the surgery. His hands that somehow stand in proportion to the rest of Even, and at the same time not – Even is tall, of course, but also very slender, whereas his fingers are so long, but not really thin, just – fascinating. 

The veins on the back of his hands stand out, weaving an intricate pattern, like rivers or small streams, joining together at his wrists and continuing up his lower arms, that are gangly but at the same time sculpted and Isak wonders what it would feel like to touch them. Being touched by those long fingers and big hands and held by those strong, lean arms for longer than just a quick, happy hug in the corridor outside the operating room. He watches Even’s upper arms disappear up into the sleeves of his green scrubs, the pale white skin on the inside of his biceps mesmerizing. It looks so soft and silky, in contrast to the hard planes of the rest of his body. For a second, Isak catches a glimpse of some light-brown, thin hairs peeking out from Even’s armpit as he stretches a little, and he almost can’t resist to stretch his hand out to touch. 

He forces himself to look down, and that’s when he sees that Even’s green scrub shirt also has ridden up a little bit as he stretches, revealing a thin sliver of pale skin at his waist, and some soft brown hairs sticking up above the front of his pants, leading up to the navel, and now he really has to look down on the floor or somewhere else,  _ anywhere _ else because this… this is… he doesn’t know what this is.

He very deliberately keeps his eyes fixed on a cracked floor tile by Even’s left foot instead, painstakingly focusing on planning out dinner in his head.

 

* * *

 

By Thursday, he sort of has it figured out, he thinks.

Isak has never really liked change. And now, something has changed in his life, getting a new friend, a change that actually somehow seems to be for the better.

And soon, it will all be taken away from him again. As they are shipped off to different health centers for their GP rotation in seven months, he won’t have this friendship readily available every day. Most centers are so busy that they only can accommodate one intern at a time. And okay, it’s seven months from now, but he has just gotten used to the thought of… this. Whatever it is.

So it’s not so strange that he starts getting all sorts of weird feelings, he thinks, as he and Even walk together towards the main entrance at the end of the day. They’re in the middle of discussing which of the nurses at the ward who most probably have slept with each other, and Even starts laughing so hard at one of Isak’s suggestions that he leans a little closer to Isak than he normally would. A scent of that strawberry chewing gum whiffs against him, along with another fragrance that smells a lot of Even, and is undeniably  _ male. _ Isak’s heart starts to race as he catches it, unable to completely fathom why.

His heart rate somewhat subsides as they keep walking towards the large glass sliding doors at the front. Suddenly, a kind of familiar blonde head appears on the other side, approaching them as the doors open.

”Sonja! Hi, baby!” Even exclaims and opens his arms, smiling. She smiles back, even bigger, and tilts her head up for a kiss. When Even leans down and kisses her, all the air in Isak’s lungs suddenly is knocked out of him. He almost doubles over, feeling like somebody has stabbed him with a knife.

”This is Isak”, he hears Even say, somewhere in the distance, and he vaguely feels, more than sees, Even waving a hand in his direction.

As Sonja turns towards him, smiling expectantly and holding out her hand to shake, he almost feels like he’s gonna faint.  _ What the fuck is happening _ .

”Sonja”, she says. ”Nice to meet you.”

”Isak”, he manages to press forward. ”Likewise.”

And doesn’t that feel like the most blatant lie he’s ever told anyone, including himself.

 

* * *

 

Isak excuses himself quickly after that, mumbling something about dinner plans and Magnus, manages to get on the tram and collapse in a seat by the window. His stomach keeps churning, mind a total jumble, a faint feeling of sickness in his whole body, down to his very bones.

In some kind of dream-like haze he hears his stop being announced, gets out and walks a bit unsteadily to his house and up the stairs. It’s almost like he’s ill – maybe it’s the flu? There  _ was _ an outbreak in the gastroenterology ward last week. 

Sonja’s face flashes, unbidden, before him, and he suddenly feels like he’s gonna be sick. His stomach does a backflip as he replays the moment when Even leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Wrong wrong wrong, his brain screams. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to care.

Even’s face swims before him now, but this time Even turns towards him instead of Sonja, and leans down, and even though Isak is all alone in the staircase he almost can feel Even’s piercing blue gaze on his lips, all but burning, and suddenly, it hits him. 

_ It should be me. _

 

* * *

 

Magnus isn’t home, and that’s just as well. This kind of panic calls for solitude. Isak’s heart is still trying to beat itself out of his ribcage, but it’s not like the panic attacks he’s had before. This time, it’s not like he wants to get out of his own body, desperately trying to teleport himself away to nowhere, anywhere – it’s more like he’s trying to get into his own body, trying to fit into it, seeing himself for who he really is. 

He stands in front of the mirror in his room, panting and a little dizzy, looking at the blonde curls falling onto his forehead, the green, slightly panicked eyes staring back through the glass. Is this who he is? 

Is that what all of this watching, staring, wanting to touch Even was about all the way from the beginning? Some kind of… attraction? 

Somehow, Isak knows that there is more to this than just wanting to touch, not just curiosity or a desire that happens to pop out from nowhere just because there’s an opportunity. Ever since that Monday morning when Even managed to calm him down in just seconds in the locker room, Isak has gravitated towards him in a way that he can’t explain, or remember ever doing before, for that matter.

Sure, there was Jonas, in high school, when everything went to hell and his best friend seemed like the only steady thing in his life, and for some time Isak probably got a little over-attached to him. But it has never been like this. This feeling of literal physical illness because another person kisses, touches, or just looks at somebody else.

That’s all he really knows. That Even shouldn’t be kissing anyone that isn’t him.

What the  _ hell _ is he gonna do now.

 

* * *

 

By the time Magnus gets home, Isak has come to a steadfast decision. Yes, he is most probably attracted to Even. If he’s completely honest with himself, it’s more than that. It’s not only that Even is (objectively and otherwise) the most beautiful human being he has ever laid eyes upon (because he  _ is,  _ there’s no denying that). 

But it’s also that Isak really wants to be around him. Not just staring at, and, well, preferably touching, his mesmerizing apparition, but also just talking to him, listening to him, sensing his presence. Even both calms him ands exhilarates him, weird as it may sound. He can, hands down, say that he never has felt like this before.

When he thinks of Even, it’s like he can see him brighter than anyone or anything else. Like a shining beacon that illuminates everything around him, not shadowing, but lightening up, making even Isak  _ better, _ or at least, wanting to be. 

But, he has decided: nobody can know. Like a few weeks ago, when he scolded Magnus for calling Even attractive, he realizes what an awkward position this would put Even in, if it would ever come to his knowledge. To know that somebody that you’re literally forced to spend a lot of your waking time together with, are so affected by your presence that they almost can’t normally function? It wouldn’t be fair to Even. Who has a girlfriend. Sonja.

And, who by normal logic, most probably therefore is very straight.

_ Plus _ , a little part of his brain whispers,  _ what if he wants nothing to do with you if he finds out? What if it means that you’ll never sit that close together again, on the tram, in the morning meetings, during coffee breaks? _

He can’t have that. If it’s one thing he knows, it is that however terrifying this crush, or whatever, may be, and however painful it might be - being around Even all day long and not be allowed to do anything about his feelings: not being around Even at all would be a million times worse.

Well. No one will know. Especially not Magnus. There is no doubt that this would spread like the plague, if he ever found out. So Isak draws a deep breath, puts on a straight (he almost laughs at himself for the pun) face, and does his best to appear like his normal everyday self.

 

* * *

 

Come Monday, Isak isn’t really sure what to feel, or expect to feel, as he walks through the hospital’s main entrance.

They have an educational program this week, to round off their six-month long surgery rotation, with lectures and seminars every day. That also means lots of coffee breaks and lunches, just the eight of them in their small group of interns.

Nowhere to hide, and under the watchful eye of everyone else.

Isak hasn’t really seen Emma or Julian for a couple of weeks, having been in different departments (partly due to some shifting around from Even’s side, now that he thinks about it), and he’s not particularly excited to see either of them today.

With Even, though, it’s another matter. All he knows is that he misses him, although he last saw him less than three days ago, and that he doesn’t have a fucking clue how to handle this new situation, whatever it is. He needs to make it work. Somehow.

Fortunately, or not, the seats on both sides of Even are taken, by Martin and Marie, when Isak enters the small seminar room in the educational wing of the hospital. He has to settle for a chair on the opposite side of the table, right across from Even, who looks up as he enters and shoots him a blindingly beautiful, but somehow also tentative, smile.

Isak’s stomach flips in a both sickening and wonderful way. He manages to draw his lips up into a friendly grin, and then proceed to the relief of staring down in his backpack, searching around for a functioning pen for a little too long. Finally, the lecturer, their director of studies, starts talking, and he can direct all of his focus on her.

”So, welcome to this educational week. It’s a chance for you to recap and repeat some things that you should have picked up by now, that you are almost one-third through your internship and soon will proceed to your next rotation in internal medicine.”

She starts handing out papers to the people up front, encouraging them to pass the sheets forward down the table.

“But it is also a week where we will get to know each other a little better. You have already had the introductions week, of course, and you have all worked together by now at some point, I am sure, but working together also means discovering new things about each other. And it is something we have to acknowledge, and to vent, in order to function as supportive colleagues to each other, not just people who have to work together.”

She stops to look each of them in the eyes, one by one, in a very serious manner.

“One day this week will be completely dedicated to this purpose.”

_ God _ . If there is such a thing as Isak’s least favourite lecture, it would be something along the lines of this.  _ Getting to know each other. Bonding. Sharing _ . He doesn’t need to go on. Fate isn’t on his side this week either.

 

* * *

 

Well, fate may not be on his side completely, but come Wednesday, or  _ the day of bonding  _ as Julian chuckles, elbowing Isak in the side as they take their seats in the morning, maybe something works his way, because they’re not paired up with the one they’re sitting next to today, but the person opposite of them.

Even smiles bigger than ever at Isak as they rise to take a prompted walk around the hospital grounds together.

”Remember,” the lecturer shouts over the scraping of chairs, ”choose a difficult situation that you’re not sure how to deal with, and let the other come with suggestions on how to solve it, without talking back. Twenty minutes each. So, I’ll see you back here in… 45 minutes? Use your time well!”

And off they go.

”Do you want to start? I have a feeling that you just love these kind of exercises.” Even smiles wickedly, and Even does know him, and it  _ does _ things to Isak – oh, if he only could have his help to solve this situation that he wishes more than anything he knew how to deal with.

Well, he has to settle for less.

”Uhm, yeah, well, I’m thinking… I’m not sure what I should choose… should it be professional, do you think? Or could a personal issue work as well?”

Isak grasps desperately for something, but comes up short. All his brain can give him at the moment is  _ Even Even Even _ and  _ Tell me more about yourself, something, anything _ . Besides, Isak doesn’t trust himself enough to be sure that something, well, private doesn’t slip out of his mouth if he starts sharing. Maybe, if he can get Even to talk, he’ll have time to figure something out for himself.

”I think both could do fine, to tell the truth,” Even shrugs, and looks at him. Isak scratches his neck, trying to look absent-minded.

”Well, okay. I’m just – still not woken up, I’m afraid.” He gives out a slightly embarrassed laugh, but tries to look indifferent. ”Did you have anything in mind?”

Even looks serious for a moment, bites his lower lip and glances at Isak.

”Do you think there is such a thing as free choice?”

Isak looks up, incredulous, and almost starts laughing.

” _ That _ is your difficult situation? Trying to decide if free choice exists?”

But Even looks more honest that ever, blue eyes almost burning into Isak’s own.

”I’m not really sure what I believe. It’s something I’ve been thinking about from time to time, you know, ever since high school.”

”Yeah”, Isak snorts. ”I’ve had a Sartre period as well.”

Even chuckles and casts him a sideways glance, looking almost playful but quickly turning serious again.

”Well”, he says. ”It maybe was a bit more – philosophical then. Now, though, I think of it more as an everyday challenge, if you will.”

”A challenge?”

”Yeah. Like, what if I only do everything I ever do, out of habit? Do I choose to do these things, to live my life they way I currently do, because I want to, or because I think I am supposed to? Or because it’s the way that I’ve always known, and I haven’t stopped to consider that there might be something else for me? Something… more? Better? If I would choose, right now, would I choose what I already have, or something else? And, the most important question of all, maybe: would I dare to?”

Isak tries to find some general direction in this (after all pretty philosophical, he thinks) outburst. And he thinks he gets it. He has been thinking the same things, right? About his career. It doesn’t surprise him that Even, who does seem to be a bit of a thinker, if he’s honest, also would have some second thoughts about his work, now that they’ve come this far into the real, hard-working adult world.

Even fixes him with his stare.

”What do you think?”

Isak has a hard time thinking anything when Even looks at him like that. He goes for what he does best - deflection.

”Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking the questions? You heard her in there,” he adds, doing his best to maintain a steady voice.

Even doesn’t let go of him with his gaze right away, but finally shrugs. ”Okay. Ask away.”

”So.” Isak racks his brain for comments that both can give him more valuable information about Even and make him seem smart. ”Free choice. It’s an illusion, right?”

Even raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything.

”Right?” Isak insists.

”You heard the woman. No talking back,” Even says in a neutral voice.

Isak rolls his eyes. ”Oh god. Whatever.”

”Whatever,” Even repeats, but this time, it’s with an amused little smile, and far from indifferent.

In the end, they don’t manage to get to Isak’s ’difficult situation’ at all, due to forty more minutes of solid banter and laughing, in between some actual serious philosophical discussions about choice and the imagined freedom of it. It’s probably the least serious Isak has been about any assignment, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He returns to the seminar room with a warm, content feeling inside, disturbed only by the constant fluttering reminiscent of butterflies, somewhere deep down in his stomach. He makes sure to sit opposite Even again as they take their seats, hopeful that they’ll be paired up in the same manner as the day continues.

”So, what did you think of this exercise?” the lecturer continues. A scattered humming stirs from the interns around the table, a few of them, including Julian and Emma, looking up at her with obvious appreciation.

”I hope you all have had fulfilling conversations and that perhaps, you have been given some new insight to your selected issue,” she continues. ”In fact, I want you to hold on to the discussion you have just had, and write down three new thoughts that this exercise gave you. We will return to those thoughts, among other things, at the live-in seminar in a couple of weeks, at the start of your internal medicine rotation.”

Isak’s stomach drops to his feet.  _ Fucking hell _ . The live-in seminar. Five full days of going away together. With Even. He had completely forgot all about this mandatory residential course. Of course, he had known about it ever since he first applied for his internship at the hospital, and they had been given information about when and where already during the introduction week, but he did not pay it a lot of mind back then, just signed it off as a slightly annoying, but necessary part of the job.

But now. Thinking about going away together with Even, not only spending all their time together for almost a full week, but sleeping four whole nights under the same roof. Probably only meters from each other. Oh god, it’s all the way down in Smögen, isn’t it? No chance of bailing or slipping out early. And a long bus ride both down there and back. Oh god. How is he gonna survive this.

Obviously, he’s gotten himself so riled up that he hasn’t been paying attention, because everybody stands up again and Even watches him across the table in an expectant manner.

”Are you coming?”

”Yeah?” He stands up, a little hesitant, and waits for Even to do the same. Even just smiles in a superiorly teasing way and stands up really slowly, eyes on Isak’s the whole time. When everybody else have left the room, Even finally speaks.

”You have no idea what we’re supposed to do now, have you?”

Isak shakes his head, mind blank. Even just stares at him, and eventually neither of them can hold their laughter any longer. It just bubbles out of Isak, and the same seems to be happening to Even. They just stand there, each holding on to a chair to keep from doubling over. Isak has no idea why he finds this so funny, he just knows that he can’t stop and that it makes him feel fucking fantastic. Free, in a way. As his stomach cramps eventually subside, he looks up at Even, and gets overwhelmed with how beautiful he is. It’s borderline ridiculous. His hair is dishevelled, falling down onto his forehead, a little dark and sweaty at the roots, and there’s a trace of wetness at the corner of his eyes. His cheeks are rosy, and he looks immensely happy. 

Isak has never seen anything like it in his whole life.

He’s staring, to be honest. But, he realizes, Even is, too. They just stand there for a while, catching their breaths, staring, staring at each other in silence, mouths half-open, none of them able to break eye contact. And Isak can’t find it in himself to look away.

Even is the one to break the spell, eventually. He looks down on the table, clears his throat, and start speaking in a low voice that somehow sounds a little broken.

”Well… I have to admit that I kind of forgot what we were supposed to discuss, as well.”

Even looks up at him again, and this time, he almost looks… nervous? Confused?

This is far from the Even that Isak has gotten to know over the last few weeks. He’s not sure what to say.

”Well. I’m sure that it had something to do with getting to know each other, right? Maybe we were supposed to tell the other something about ourselves? Or ask the other one about something we’d like to know about them?”

Even smiles, but it somehow looks a little strained.

”Yeah”, he huffs out. ”I guess we can do that.”

They look at each other again, briefly this time, and head out the door in some kind of silent understanding, much like they did a couple of hours ago, when they started today’s first exercise.

But it’s clear that something has shifted between them, now. If Isak was nervous this morning, and his legs felt like jelly just from thinking about being paired up with Even, he also was calmed by Even’s presence, just like usual. Just a few words or a small joke from Even, and he felt at home, like nothing could harm him or come between them.

Now, though, it’s like Even is just as tense and lost as Isak felt this morning, before entering the seminar room. They walk in silence, but it’s not comfortable. Not uncomfortable, either. Just tense. Like the air between them holds so much of importance, so many unsaid things, that it’s heavy, and carrying it takes all of their effort and focus. After a while, Isak feels like he can’t breathe. He needs to say something, anything, to cut this sinker between them and let them resurface.

”Why do you always get away with stuff?” Isak suddenly blurts out. Oh god.  _ Where the hell did that come from? _

Even turns his head slowly, and looks at him, utterly confused.

”What?”

”I didn’t mean it like that! Or, I did – not like that, but – I’ve been thinking about you.”  _ Great. Even better _ . ”About, like, where you go sometimes. When you come in late. Or go home early. I guess you have something that you need to do, and I guess I… just wondered what it was. If you were okay.”

The truth is, that Isak  _ has _ been thinking about it lately. Maybe there is something in Even’s life that isn’t as perfect as Isak thought, way back, before _.  _ He’s been speculating about all sorts of things, lying awake in bed at night when his thoughts keep drifting back to all possible aspects on the subject  _ Even _ .

Maybe, he’s been thinking, Even also has someone close to him that isn’t well. Someone he takes care of. That he attends to, since Even seems to be the kind of person that  _ does _ attend do others. Like Isak could have been, if he had been that kind of person. He could have been the one to get out early now and then to visit his mum, maybe help her with something she needed, go shopping for her. If he hadn’t run away from that responsibility, years ago. It’s not like he can just show up now and demand that kind of space in her life from out of nowhere.

He stops himself and realizes that Even hasn’t said a word during his internal rant, he just keeps looking at Isak like he’s something from outer space.

”Yeah,” Even finally says. ”I’m okay, Isak. But thank you. For caring.”

His voice is tender, but the way he says it makes it sound final somehow, like the subject is exhausted and that the conversation ends here.

”Sure,” is all that Isak can think of saying. And: ”You’re welcome.”

Even looks at him again, this time with something close to fondness in his eyes. And finally, to Isak’s unspeakable relief, he smiles.

Suddenly, he realizes something.

”I have no idea when we’re supposed to get back in there. Do you?”

Even bites his lip, and looks a little shyly back at Isak.

”I don’t, either.”

And this time, when they start laughing at their mutual stupidity and lack of attention, it’s liberating, an unsurmountable relief.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep getting overwhelmed with all your lovely comments and messages, THANK YOU so much! I never dreamed of that my first fic would get this kind of love and attention - you're wonderful, all of you.
> 
> Warning for sexist behavior and sexist language in this chapter. If you want to know more details, please scroll down to the end notes before reading.
> 
> And of course, I had to post a chapter on May 17th - happy constitution day, all Norwegian readers! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The sudden, incomprehensible tension between him and Even subsides after that. They are, sort of, back to normal for the rest of the week, even if ‘normal’ might be kind of a stretch to begin with. At least, Isak feels like he is the only one who has trouble controlling his stares and his stomach when they’re close to one another. There’s only fleeting moments, barely seconds, where he thinks that he can feel Even looking at him out of the corner of his eye. But, when he turns his head, he’s met with a regular relaxed smile.

Maybe Isak is imagining it; but just once he catches Even watching him, and Even’s expression as he does is unfathomable. He’s looking at Isak like he is a mystery and a dear friend at the same time, and his eyes are blue, so blue that they’re almost silvery. It’s hard to interpret. Isak sure as hell doesn’t know how to handle it, but fortunately, Even looks away first.

The moment passes. It doesn’t happen again.

Friday, he’s meeting Eva and Jonas outside the hospital’s main entrance. They’re going for coffee together - once upon a time it would have been awkward to call it _just like old times,_ but nowadays, it holds nothing but familiarity and warmth.

Even and Isak walk through the main corridor together, but before they have reached the sliding glass doors of the main entrance, Even speaks.

“So, how about that hang-out, then?”

“Hang-out?”

“Yeah, you know, last week you suggested that we’d do something together. Last Friday. But I was meeting up with Sonja, so I thought… maybe this Friday is a better time? Like, now, I mean?”

The desire to just say yes and sneak out the back entrance with Even, ditching his oldest friends and head out for adventure, is all-encompassing. He barely composes himself, and this time it almost feels like he’s the one letting Even down easy.

“I kind of have plans, actually.” He scratches his neck, trying to find the right words. “Meeting some old friends. So I can’t. Sorry.”

For just a brief second, Isak swears there is a shade of disappointment in Even’s eyes.

“But I would have liked that,” he hastily adds.

“Another time, then,” Even says, and smiles.

“Yeah. Another time.” He smiles back. Their gazes lock, and this time, none of them look away, and Isak feels his breath hitch. _What is this now._  Right in the main entrance, in front of everyone. They just stand there and smile at each other like two idiots and why can’t they just – stop? The truth is, at least for Isak, is that he’s literally unable to.

“Isak!” A long mane of soft, auburn hair and a thick red jacket suddenly stumbles into him from the right and breaks the spell – it’s Eva, proceeding to hug him tight from the side.

Jonas appears behind her, grin on his face. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” Isak smiles back. “Oh, sorry.” He turns around, gesturing vaguely beside him. “This is Even. We work together.”

Jonas’ grin widens as he looks up at Even, who smiles back just as big, white, pointed teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights. “Nice to finally meet you, Even.”

Isak is gonna _kill_ him.

Even’s eyes crinkle, and he shoots Isak a teasing look. “Oh, so the rumours precede me?”

“Well, you know our friend Magnus, who’s a nurse in the ER? He always goes on and on about how tall you are,” Jonas answers, and okay, maybe Isak can refrain from killing him, right now at least.

Eva, silent so far, is positively staring; her eyes are shining like stars as she stretches out her hand in greeting.

“Eva,” she beams. “So, you work together?”

Yeah. Isak just told her, didn’t he?

The smile doesn’t leave Even’s face. “We do. Actually, though, I was heading out, so.” He shrugs his shoulders, and gives Isak a quick look. “Have a good weekend, the three of you. And I’ll see you another time?”

Even raises his hand in greeting and heads for the main door, Eva gazing after him as he walks outside. As soon as Even is out of sight, she spins around on her heels, gaze boring right into Isak.

“Who the _hell_ was that?” she laughs, an utterly unbelieving expression on her face.

“What? It’s just Even!”

“Just Even? You two looked at each other like you had discovered the secrets of the universe together.”

“What? No.” He scrunches his nose, unbelieving. _Is he really that obvious?_

Wait a minute. She said _you two?_

It quickly dawns on him that he needs to tread lightly from here, to haul the maximum information out of Eva without raising the least suspicion. He clears his throat.

“So – what did you think of him?” he asks innocently.

“Come on.” She crosses her arms. “He hardly said two words to me. What do you want me to say?”

Alright. Two can, apparently, play this game. “I don’t know?” is the best he can offer.

“Isak,” Eva smiles, far too calculating for Isaks liking. “The question is what _you_ think of him.”

“Me?”

“Nice try.”

He looks desperately to Jonas for help, but, completely whipped as he is, Jonas just shrugs.

“He seems like a really nice guy, Isak.” Jonas eyebrows are in that straightforward, half-raised position again, where they make his stare very sincere and far too hard to escape.

“Yeah,” Eva chuckles. “He looks very… nice.”

She lets a conspicuous, teasing glance dart between Isak and Jonas, and the self-righteousness in her face knows no end.

High time for a change of subject.

“Are we leaving already? I’m hungry.”

“Sure, Isak. Why don’t you tell Even to come along next time? I bet we’d have a great time.” Eva drags the last words out, and Jonas sends her a warning glance.

It spurs him into action, and he takes the lead: letting Eva and Jonas trail behind him as he heads for the tram.

 

* * *

 

Isak almost can’t believe it, but the upcoming week is his last one in the operating room. His last five days in the workplace of his dreams. As always, there’s a lot of elective procedures that are already planned. Then, the emergency ones where he might be able to slide in from the side and make himself useful, since a lot of the more experienced surgeons tend to already be busy with other operations during the day.

Even is, thankfully, in the ward this week - meaning he might show up in surgery at some point - but at least Isak doesn’t have to worry about running into him half-naked in the dressing room every morning. It feels a bit empty in there, though.

Monday is okay, Tuesday is great, and Wednesday is even better. He’s allowed to perform almost a whole appendectomy under the watchful eye of dr Sundby - one of the most senior and highly respected surgeons in the hospital - and when he compliments Isak for the stitches afterwards, it’s like something out of a dream. As he’s about to leave the room afterwards, Sundby stops him.

“I’m performing a splenectomy tomorrow. First procedure of the day in room seven. Have you ever seen one?”

He almost can’t believe this is happening.

“I – No.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join. I need an assistant, since Anita is home sick. I suggest you show up at eight.”

Sundby smiles, nods and turns to the computer in the corner of the room.

As Isak enters the dressing room before heading home, he’s nearly floating.

 

* * *

 

The next morning finds him changed, ready and just the right amount of nervous outside operating room seven just before eight o’clock. He couldn’t sleep last night - well, not that there’s anything new about that - but this time, it was due to excitement, not the usual grinding mill of _what-ifs,_   _buts_ and _whys._

Suddenly, two familiar figures appear from around the corner down the corridor: Emma and Even, chatting between themselves, and also obviously heading for the very door he’s standing in front of.

Isak’s gut reaction is a bout of jealousy. He has to remind himself sternly that _he’s not yours to want._

Then, panic sets in. Are they both gonna walk in here and steal his thunder? He already planned this! Yesterday! He knows he’s acting like a stubborn child as he positions himself a little more directly in front of the door, forcing anyone who wants to enter to squirm past him quite obviously. 

“Chill out, Isak.” Even almost rolls his eyes. “We already know that you’re supposed to assist Sundby, we’re just here to watch, don’t worry.”

He suppresses the urge to make a face. Because it’s Even, he’ll let it slide. For now.

They enter the operating room together, all three of them. The operating nurse grumbles a little over the number of people in there, but Even forestalls her with assurances that Isak will be the only one actually participating and that she’s welcome to usher him and Emma out of the way whenever she likes.

The nurse warms up to them considerably after that and actually starts chatting to Emma about the upcoming skiing World Cup event in Holmenkollen on Sunday. Even can handle just about anyone, it seems.

Sundby enters then, sterile hands in the air. The atmosphere changes quite suddenly, everyone quieting right away.

“Gown,” he commands, and Isak remembers that he has to prepare himself too. Ducking out in the corridor, he washes his hands and puts on a surgical mask, making it back inside just in time for check-in.

“Isak.” Sundby nods at him and hands him the diathermy forceps, proceeding to press the scalpel down on the patient’s midline to open the abdomen.

Isak concentrates fully on stilling the small cutaneous bleeds that appear as the senior surgeon proceeds to open up the cut. When they, after a good half hour, have gained full access to the spleen, however, Sundby looks up and turns to Emma and Even.

“Well?”

The interns look at each other in confusion.

“I need one of you to change. Somebody needs to hold the hook, right?”

Even ushers Emma forwards, whispering something in her ear, and she looks a little nervous, but happily proceeds out the door to wash her hands.

When she returns and has been properly dressed by the nurse, Sundby beckons her over.

“Stand here, right next to me.”

Emma looks up at Isak with something that’s probably a nervous smile, only eyes visible above the mask.

Fine. They’re not in this together, per se, but he’s at least the chosen one today, so he can offer her a nod and a smile back.

“Here.” Sundby places a metal hook down the outer side of the cut, and motions to Emma to grab hold of it.

“That’s it. Good thing that it was you. You girls have such gentle hands, much better at holding… things.”

Isak’s insides turns. It’s definitely not the first time he’s heard a sexist joke in these surroundings, but to be honest, it’s the first one this blatant.

Emma laughs nervously, looking up at Sundby like she’s not sure, either, how to handle this, and then at Isak. He tries to convey a ‘sorry, I didn’t know he was such an asshole’ with his eyes, but he’s not sure if it comes across.

He looks at the operating nurse, who subtly rolls her eyes and looks away.

Nobody says anything.

Sundby keeps working, and Isak reminds himself that he has a task at hand. He’ll have to discuss this later with Emma, that’s for sure. But for now, he has a job to do.

They work in silent concentration for a while after that, only interspersed by commands like ‘forceps’ or ‘scissors’ from Sundby. He directs Isak to tie knots around vessels that are to be cut, as they work their way down to the spleen, in the upper left of the patient’s stomach. As they proceed even further down, there’s some liquid that has pooled around the bottom curve of the spleen, hindering them from getting a good view, and Sundby calls for a suction tube.

As Isak stretches out his hand to accept it from the nurse, Sundby stops him.

“Not you. Let the lady handle the suction.” He looks to Emma again. “I bet you’re more experienced with such things, are you not?”

Emma’s face whitens. Isak can feel himself raging inside. This is most definitely not okay. But if he speaks, what will happen?

It’s obvious that nobody else in here is at all surprised, and that nobody makes the least effort to call the senior surgeon out on his behaviour. This is, apparently, considered normal. An everyday occurance. And no one is going to do anything about it.

If he speaks, it will be his doom.

Somebody makes a muffled sound by the patient’s head. Isak quickly looks to his left, and sees Even standing there, mouth half agape, face red with anger. He has never seen Even look like this - and apparently, Even is just as stunned as he is, unable to utter a word.

Suddenly, he can’t stand it any longer. He feels sick just thinking about how Emma must feel. She’s seems completely frozen into place, and he doesn’t blame her the least. It shouldn’t be solely her responsibility to speak up just because she’s the one subjected to this crap, right?

He can’t say what makes him do it, but seeing Even like this, he somehow wants him to know that Isak isn’t one to let these things slide. That Isak can be brave, and do things for others, just like Even does.

He glances over again, and the sight of his black stare is what gives Isak the necessary amount of courage.

“That’s it,” he hears himself say.

“What?” Sundby lifts his face and stares at him.

It’s almost like an out-of-body experience. Is this really him talking?

Well, now that he’s begun, it’s like he can’t stop.

“You don’t talk to people that way. It’s not okay.”

He can see the senior surgeon smiling in the way his jawbones move under the mask, but it definitely doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t really know what you’re referring to now, Isak,” Sundby says in a silky, threatening voice.

This is a pivot point, Isak realizes. There is still time to turn back. He can talk it down, say that it must have been a misunderstanding, drag it all back into a state of faked normalcy.

He can’t.

Isak’s heart is thumping, he’s sweaty and cold all over all at once. 

“You know very well what I’m talking about.”

“If you have any complaints about the way I work, I suggest you leave.” The stare that meets his own is icy cold. “I have other people in here who are happy to help.”

“No, you don’t,” he hears Even say in a slightly shaky, but still steady voice to his left.

Emma looks at Isak, then at Even, and puts the hook she’s been holding down on the patient’s stomach.

“I’m so done with this,” is all she says, in a toneless voice, and then turns around and heads for the door. Isak doesn’t hesitate to follow her, Even falling in just behind.

As they enter the corridor outside and the door swings shut behind them, Even takes a few quick steps past him and ahead, then turns on the spot and eyes him intensely.

“Fucking hell, Isak,” he says, in an admiring tone.

“Not here,” is all he can manage, and the three of them quickly walk down the hallway and into the break room, which is, by some heavenly godsend, empty.

By the time they reach the couches in the corner, Isak is hyperventilating. The full magnitude of what he’s just done is starting to sink in.

He did that. He really did that. He spoke up against one of the most respected, most senior surgeons in the very department where he always wanted to work. He’s completely fucked. Completely.

“I can’t believe that you did that,” Emma says, and her voice sounds like it’s close to breaking. 

“Yeah. Me neither,” he breathes. “Fuck.”

He should be panicking, he thinks. Under normal circumstances, he definitely would be. What he just said and did in there doesn’t even remotely feel like something he’d do - it’s almost surreal. It honestly goes against a lot of what he believes himself to be.

But, at the same time, it feels so right. Fulfilling, in a way. The knowledge that he stood up for something that is obviously right, in front of others, when no one else managed? Is this what it’s like, doing the right thing?

But nothing can compare to the emotion that rushes through him as he looks up to see Even’s face. Even watches him in something like awe, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes wide open, and the expression in his eyes is so beyond fond that Isak almost feels like he’s going to faint from it.

“Isak.” Even says his name like it’s a hymn, a song of praise.

“Yeah.” He breathes back.

Even doesn’t say anything more after that, simply looks at him in that almost worshipping manner, and at last Isak can’t take it anymore. He lets his gaze dart up to Emma, who seems to be in her own world, eyes on the table in front of her. She looks up at him. 

“I do hope you don’t get in too much trouble for this,” she half-whispers, seeming nervous, but grateful.

“Never mind,” he says, and right now, in this very moment, he feels like he actually means it. “It’s just that – I had to. Have you ever even heard anything like that before?”

“Well, honestly, I have,” she says, and looks down again. “It’s nothing new to me, you know. I guess that you’re just lucky that you haven’t seen it before.”

_What._ “This happened to you – before?”

Emma paints a circle with her index finger on the table, round and round, with no real purpose. “It’s not – unusual, you know? Most aren’t that blatant about it, is all. I haven’t been talked to like that in front of other interns before, especially not guys.”

“They?”

“Oh, it’s not all of them, Isak.” She looks up at him, then down at her hands again. “Most of the surgeons here are nice, you know. But, well, I guess we’re more thick-skinned now than when we started.”

“We?” 

“Us girls. You know.”

To be honest, he both does, and doesn’t. It’s no secret that this, in many ways, is a conservative environment. That rainbow hair at the pub isn’t something he sees every day. But that this - this! - is something that girls like Emma just feel forced to get used to?

“That’s just – awful.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Well.” Emma eyes him seriously. “Yes. It is. But really. How am I supposed to change everything? It’s not like I can take the fight every single time.” She shrugs her shoulders, and seems to shrink a little with the gesture. “I used to, you know. But being here I already have enough on my plate, trying to get through this internship with all the long hours and hard work.”

He can relate to that.

“I just had to resign to that I don’t have to fight every battle. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.” She turns quiet again, like it’s the end of the discussion.

This is, by far, the longest conversation he’s had with Emma, and the most serious at that. There’s nothing of that usual cheerful, borderline annoying façade about her, and it hits him that this maybe is who she really is, underneath, and that she somehow feels that she has to act a certain way to fit in. To be honest, there’s probably something for him to relate to there, as well.

It makes him fucking angry at the world, and he has no idea what to do with that.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, he hears chatting from outside, and two anesthetic nurses appear in the doorway, paying them no mind, but effectively preventing further discussion of the subject.

“We should probably go back to work,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Emma says. “I’m gonna head back to the ward, I think. Lots of patients going home today, somebody needs to check their prescriptions and stuff.”

“I guess I’ll come with you,” Even says. “Are you okay with that, Isak?”

Even eyes him with slight concern, but the admiration in his look is still lingering.

“Yeah. It’s better if I just go to another procedure, probably. Keep it up, and so on.”

Even nods.

“I’ll see you at lunch, then?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

They don’t have lunch that day. Or, maybe Even does, but Isak manages to sneak into this Whipple operation. Since it’s a huge, complicated procedure where they basically remove half of the organs in the abdomen, it lasts all the way to past five o’clock – successfully preventing him from running into anyone that might have heard what went down earlier. His head is slightly spinning at the end, but it’s definitely worth it. He’s gone longer than this on an empty stomach before, after all.

He can’t help the thoughts from racing around in his head, even though he’s trying hard to focus on the procedure itself. It’s the second time in a few weeks he has the feeling that he’s discarded himself from a future here. This time, it feels more real, though. Sundby will probably have told everyone about it by now, and it’s not like Isak would put it past anyone here to exaggerate the truth. Hospitals are the perfect rumour mills. He’ll probably hear from someone in the morning how he assaulted the anesthesiologist with a scalpel.

The rest of the operation corridor is fairly empty as he finally heads for the locker room. His mind strays to the emergency Twix that he knows lies somewhere on the bottom of his backpack, along with numerous pencils, receipts and discarded surgery caps. As he picks up his phone, he sees a string of messages running all the way to the bottom of the screen.

 

_From Even_

_11.27_

Lunch?

_11.34_

Busy?

_11.37_

Are you okay?

_11.49_

Hope you’re okay 

_13.11_

I heard someone saw you through the window attending the Whipple. Good thinking

_14.57_

I think this calls for an emergency hang-out, though

_14.58_

Am I right 

_16.39_

Message me when you’re done if you want. Just chilling at home

 

Even though the mere thought of hanging out with Even makes him jittery all over, it does sound like a pretty solid idea. Going home all by himself, with no company other than his churning thoughts, isn’t very appealing right now. There is admittedly some venting that needs to be done, and who could be better to turn to than Even? He was there, after all.

And, judging by the perseverance in the string of unanswered messages, Even seems to be up for it.

What the hell. He quickly types down “Leaving now. Still up for it?” and presses send before his brain can stop him.

 

_From Even_

_17.24_

You know my tram stop right

I’ll meet you there in 20

 

A thrill of excitement runs through him. In less than half an hour, he’ll be seeing Even. Outside of work. At his place. He wonders what his apartment will look like. In which street he lives. What Even will be wearing.

_That’s enough. Think of Sonja._  

Sonja. _Don’t be stupid._ Of course he lives with Sonja. For a brief second, he considers picking up his phone to call the whole thing off, but then he thinks again. Even is probably also in need of some processing.

It would be quite selfish to leave him hanging.

 

* * *

 

At the tram stop, Even’s dark blond hair towers a head above everyone else’s on the pavement. Looking up, Even grins as he spots him. A sudden insecurity spreads through Isak at the sight. How do they greet each other in this moment? They have never purposely met outside of work before. A hug? Handshake? Maybe he should stop before he reaches Even and settle for just saying hi from a safe distance? Which would be how long exactly? Perhaps half a metre?

There’s not enough time to decide on a strategy before Even beats him to it, pulling him into a quick side-hug before he lets go and leads the way down the street. _Bro-hug._ That’s what it was. His left side is still tingling a little from where they touched, though, even if both their jackets and hoodies were squeezed between them.

The sun is still out, long April shadows in the chilly afternoon cast behind them as Even walks up to a yellow building and taps the code in by the front door. Isak follows him up to the third floor, and notices that the only name on his door is Bech Naesheim. Hopefully no Sonja then. Because he said girlfriend, right? They aren’t married?

All such thoughts are cut short as he enters Even’s apartment, bathed in the golden late afternoon light. The whole place screams of Even and Even only –  though he doesn’t know him that well, to be honest, there’s no mistaking who lives here. Familiar hoodies and jean jackets hanging in the hallway (and only big-sized sneakers on the shoe rack). Drawings and paintings scatter the walls, and there’s loads of books lying around the living room as he enters it. Not only medical literature, as in Isak’s room, but art books, novels, comic books, and on the coffee table, a vintage atlas of the world. There’s even a full-sized piano in the corner, heaps of sheet music towered on top.

“Do you play?” he asks, turning to face Even, whose hair is positively glowing in the soft light falling in through the windows.

“Yeah.” Even smiles. “There was actually a time when I thought that I was going to be a concert pianist.”

“For real?”

_He certainly has the hands for it._

“For real. I’m glad I didn’t pursue that in the end, though. Lonely life, I think. Just travelling all the time and never being able to settle down.”

_You can have a lonely life living here as well,_  Isak almost says, but stops himself, realizing how bitter that would sound.

“Have a seat.” Even gestures to the sunken-down, comfy-looking couch in the middle of the room. “Beer?”

“Yeah. Please!”

Even laughs and disappears into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two bottles and something else wrapped in his left hand. As Isak reaches for one of the beers, Even lets him glimpse it. A joint.

Even raises an eyebrow. “You want to? I think today kind of calls for it, don’t you?”

Isak smiles wide. Great minds think alike, it seems.

As they’re finishing up the joint a little while later, half-lying on the couch across from each other, Even catches his eye.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Isak takes a drag, and considers it for a moment. A few hours ago, he really needed to. Right now, though, other things come to mind much more urgently.

“Nah. Actually, I think I’d rather not. Let’s just chill out.” Then it hits him that maybe Even needs to talk it out. “If it’s okay with you?” he adds hastily.

Even smiles.

“Sure. It’s been a long time since I smoked, actually, so I don’t mind making the most of it. Let’s chill.”

“Sounds perfect.” Isak smiles back. “So, this is your own place?” He feels a bit hesitant, starting this getting-to-know-each-other conversation, but now seems as good a time as any.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you maybe lived with Sonja,” Isak blurts out before he has the mind to stop himself. “Haven’t you been together since high school, or something?” he adds, remembering Even saying something about it a few weeks ago.

“Since we were fifteen, actually.” Fifteen. That’s at least ten years, then. “But we’ve had our on and off periods, and when I moved back here a year ago, it was mostly off, so I thought it was better to get my own place.”

“Back from where?” Isak says, nonplussed.

“From Gothenburg. I studied there, you know.”

“Really?” Isak raises his eyebrows. He has no recollection of hearing this before. A pang of bad conscience reminds him to really try and pay more attention to the people around him. “Why?”

“Well, you could say that I needed to get away for a bit.”

“Did it work?” He really needs to ease up on the smoking. It removes his filters way too easily.

Even bites his lower lip, apparently unsure about if he’s going to continue from there.

But if Isak remembers anything from their consultation techniques seminar, it is that silence often is the best way to drag more information out of people. So he just sits there, waiting.

“Well, in a way, yes,” Even finally admits. “I think I learned a lot about myself. Living on my own for a few years in a place where nobody knew me.” He pauses for while and gazes out the window, pale eyes almost grey, looking deep in thought. “But at the same time, I also realized that you can’t run away from your problems.” He eyes Isak seriously. “Or yourself, for that matter. If that makes any sense.”

“I think so.” Isak nods slowly, wondering where this conversation is leading them.

“But the most important thing, though, is that I learnt Swedish. _Ska vi beställa pizza?_ ”

If there’s one thing Isak recognizes by now, it’s diversion, and when it’s needed. He shoots Even an understanding smile.

“Sure. Hawaii?”

Even’s returning smile could fuel half the city’s lights.

 

* * *

 

They eat the pizza sitting on the floor, and when they’re finished, Even pulls out another joint from a small paper box behind a row of books on a shelf.

They smoke it all in one go, Isak starfished on the carpet, Even’s head a few decimeters away somewhere to his left. The sun has gone down a while ago and the room is grey, the only light coming from the lamp in the hall. They’re just lying there now, in a comfortable silence, passing the joint back and forth, fingers brushing now and then. Isak tries not to let his fingers linger against Even’s, but it’s like an electric current tingles through them every time they touch, meant to keep them in place. They lie like that for a long while, silent and content, just listening to each other’s breathing.

“Isak?” Even asks suddenly. “Even if you still don’t feel like talking about what happened earlier, can I say something to you about it? You don’t have to answer or say anything. I just really wanna tell you something.”

He doesn’t really want to talk about it, no. But, as long as it’s Even, he can listen.

“It’s like that exercise,” he mumbles.

“What exercise?” Even sounds amused.

“You know, that day they paired us up. The educational week. Just listening. No talking back,” he answers. “You remember?”

“Of course I do.” He doesn’t have to look at Even to hear the smile in his voice.

It’s quiet for a beat. He wonders what time it is, and tries to imagine the world outside going on as normal. It feels almost unreal, thinking that there’s anything existing outside of this bubble of shadowy evening, filled with smoke and honesty and warmth.

“Anyway,” Even continues. “What I wanted to say before. It was just that I think that you were really fucking brave today.”

“Were you surprised?” Isak asks. He’s been thinking about it himself: how out of the ordinary that kind of behaviour actually was for him. He turns his head so that he can look properly at Even, see the blonde tufts of hair falling onto his forehead, how incredibly soft it looks, and he has to resist the impulse to reach out and comb his fingers through it.

“Honestly? A bit. I guess I knew already that you care for the people around you, even if you think you’re bad at showing it. I think maybe you were more surprised yourself.”

Did he take secret lessons from Eva or what? Isak laughs a little nervously. It’s a bit scary, sometimes, how Even seems to be able to gaze into his mind like that. But a part of him feels proud that Even - Even! - thinks that he can be good to others. It’s one of Even’s most admirable personality traits, anyway.

“Thanks. I guess.” He smiles, kind of unsure of what to say.

“I mean it. And I think you’re braver than you give yourself credit for.” Even’s voice is soft, so soft, and his gaze very sincere. It’s almost too intense. Isak can hardly breathe after a while, and has to look away. He turns his face upwards again, fixing his stare on the unlit lamp in the ceiling.

The air around them is a little heavier than before, almost some kind of expectation to it. Isak tries to think of a subject to divert the focus from himself.

Unbidden, Sonja comes to mind.

Like, what would she say if she saw this. Would she be okay with her boyfriend lying like this with someone else, silent and intense and hands almost touching, even if it’s another boy?

He suddenly can’t stand not knowing what this is. Is it something? Are they just friends? Is he the only one who feels this pull, this slight change in the atmosphere surrounding them every time they’re close to each other? Ever since that seminar day, things have been different, and he needs to address it somehow, needs to know if it’s just his imagination, or if it’s something they both sense.

Maybe it’s for the best to jump in the deep end right away.

“So, you’re on again now. You and Sonja, I mean.”

“Well. Technically, yes.” Even says, sounding hesitant, as he’s unsure of where this is coming from.

“Okay?” What does that mean, _technically?_

Even draws in a breath. The air is yet a bit more heavy, waiting. “I actually haven’t told anyone else about this,” he says suddenly, “but I’m thinking about ending it. Again. Not again _again,_  like before, but for real this time.”

“Really?” Isak only saw them together a couple of weeks ago, and they looked so happy.

Even exhales, a long, deep breath, and gazes out the window, distant expression in his eyes.

“Well, I told you before, we’ve been together for so long. Twelve years, actually. And she’s been with me through some really rough, and some really good times. She’s become this kind of... constant in my life. And if I let her go for real, I’m afraid I maybe wouldn’t know who I am anymore. But, at the same time, that’s what makes me wanna do it, too.”

Even rolls up on his right side, inching just a little closer with the action. “If that makes any sense at all.”

“Is this about free choice again?” Isak turns his head back to the left so that he’s facing Even once more. The street lights outside reflect in his eyes, making them look almost silvery again. “You want to find out who you really are? If you decide stuff for yourself, and not for anyone else’s sake?”

Even meets his eyes again.

“Something like that, yeah.” His gaze flickers down on the floor. “But not only.”

“No?” Isak isn’t sure he’s following, but he’s yearning to see where this goes next.

“Do you ever have the feeling that you have been waiting for something for so long, but you don’t know what it is?” Even’s voice is almost a whisper now, and it’s hard to breathe. _What is he saying._  “And it’s like, at first, you don’t know, but when you’ve seen it, there’s nothing you can do to unsee it? And maybe it’s been there all along, just waiting for you to catch on and take your place where you were always meant to be?” 

Didn’t he think just this, exactly this, just a few weeks ago? The day they sat on the tram together and he just felt like everything slotted into place, both inside and outside of him?

“Yes,” he whispers. “I do.”

Even watches him intensely, eyes so bright in the moonlight that they resemble stars.

A loud buzzing tears the moment apart.

Even looks away, puts his hand down his pocket, and fishes out his phone.

“Sonja?” Isak mumbles hoarsely.

“No,” Even says. “Just a reminder.”

The moment is gone, and Isak suddenly feels slightly out of place. His high feels like it’s wearing off, and he’s not sure where to put his hands anymore.

Come to think of it, it’s probably pretty late.

“I think I have to head home, actually,” he says. “Work tomorrow, and all. You know. Don’t wanna be late for the last day.”

Even looks up from his phone, and nods.

“Yeah. That’s probably for the best.”

Isak is far from sure how to interpret that. His discomfort maybe shows on his face, because Even smiles, and stretches out his hand.

“Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Isak’s legs are heavy, and his head is a bit cloudy, but he takes Even’s hand and lets himself be dragged up on to his feet. Even lets go of his hand when he’s fully standing.

They walk in silence to the hall, and as Isak opens the door and steps outside, he turns to take a last look at Even.

He’s so beautiful to look at that it almost hurts. Lips slightly parted, hair tousled and one collarbone visible above the collar of his slightly crumpled t-shirt.

“Goodnight,” Isak breathes, wishing he knew how to say nothing and all at once.

“Goodnight, Isak. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Even says softly, and closes the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexism warning: a senior male surgeon makes some gravely inappropriate "jokes" and comments directed towards Emma during a surgical procedure in this chapter.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments and asks, people <3
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

Leaving Even’s apartment, he decides to walk home. It’s actually not that late, just a little past ten, but the trams are already running less often. Most of all, he needs to clear his head.

What the hell just happened in there? If he didn’t know better, he’d be almost sure that Even was kind of flirting with him. Not flirting as in the traditional way, of course, but as in getting close, so close to him. Not only physically. 

Sometimes, lately, when they talk, it feels like they share the same brain, but different parts of it. Like two adjacent rooms in an apartment, where they can come and go as they wish, but always know where the other person is. Like they gravitate towards each other, helplessly.

Thinking about it, he can’t help but think that Even must feel it too. Is it truly possible to experience such a pull towards another human being, while the other remains completely unaffected? Somehow, it’s hard to believe. And the way Even looked at him on some occasions tonight, he felt seen. Appreciated. Almost admired, in a way. It’s not something he’s very used to, to be honest, but that Even, of all people, could maybe see him that way? Even, who is more or less perfect?

He wonders how he didn’t see this before. They have worked together now for almost half a year, and it’s only for a month, or even less, that he feels that he’s seeing Even for who he is. A truly beautiful person, inside and out. 

If he’s totally honest with himself, it might not be as little as only a month. Truth be told, he has had some kind of consciousness when it comes to Even, right from the start. Not at all feelings like he’s somewhere on the verge of having now, but just that encompassing sense of direction that Even inspires in him. 

The feeling of home. 

By the time he makes it to his actual home, he enters to find Magnus in the kitchen, making a night sandwich, turning around as Isak enters.

“There you are! Want one?” He holds up a slice of bread, and not waiting for an answer, he turns his back and proceeds to put it in the toaster.

“Nah, thanks, but I’m pretty full. Had pizza.”

Magnus looks over his shoulder at him. 

“Well, yeah. Looks like someone’s had the munchies.”

“What?” He turns to look himself in the mirror on the wall, and well, his eyes are pretty red. When he takes his jacket off to hang it over a chair, he sniffs it, and okay. It smells of weed pretty badly. 

“Had a good time?”

No use denying it. “Yeah. I was at Jonas’,” he says in a flash.

It’s hard to say why he lies so automatically, but it’s probably to avoid all the questioning. It’s pretty late, after all, and he should get to bed soon.

“Dude.  _ I _ was at Jonas,” Magnus deadpans. “Why are you lying?”

Isak licks his lips. Maybe it’s better to be straight with him. It’s not like something happened that he has to hide, anyway.

“Okay.” He dives in. “I was with Even.”

“Even? Since when do you hang out?” Magnus voice goes high-pitched, and his eyes grow wide in disbelief. “I thought you two couldn’t stand each other? That week in the ER, man, I swear I thought he was gonna kill you every time you were near. What the fuck happened?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you in the first place, Mags. All these questions. I’m tired and I just wanna go to bed, okay?” 

Magnus huffs, dissatisfied. “Yeah, yeah. Nevermind. What did you do, then?”

“We just hung out at his place for a while after work. No big deal.”

“You went there after work? That’s more than a while, if you ask me.” Magnus raises an eyebrow, and then, his eyes widen once more. “Wait, you were at his place? How was it?” He lowers his voice. “Is it true, then? Does he seem as crazy as rumour says?”

“Crazy?” Isak scrunches his face. “What do you mean, crazy?”

“I heard he’s done all sorts of weird things. It sounds hilarious, though. Like, some completely manic stuff. Some things I heard about him sounds just like something my mom would do when she’s wound up. Do you think he’s bipolar as well?”

Isak feels himself go cold, and all the blood drains from his face.  _ No way.  _

Suddenly, anger flares up inside him.

“What the fuck, Magnus. You don’t go around talking about people like that. You don’t even know him! If Even wanted me to know those things, he’d tell me himself. It’s not your fucking place to guess!” 

This is the second time today he yells out an obvious truth for someone else’s benefit, and maybe that’s what he should have been doing all his life, because it feels really fucking good. “Plus, you don’t call others crazy. You of all people should know that, Mags.” He stares angrily at his flatmate, who looks a bit defeated.

“Yeah. Look who’s talking,” he mutters back, and averts his eyes.

Isak goes cold all over again.

“Fuck you!” 

And with that, he turns on his heel and runs into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and falling down onto his bed, face first.

He’s far too worked up to sleep now. Fucking Magnus. This day has been more than he can deal with, anyway. 

First, the absolute mess he probably made in surgery this morning. Then, this whole thing with Even, whatever that is. And now, on top of that, malicious rumours and gossip about the nicest person he’s met in a long time, that has made him open up and want to be a better person.  _ Crazy. Bipolar.  _ Like he would even care. Even can be whatever anyone claims him to be, and Isak wouldn’t mind. 

_ That’s not what you think about the person who took care of you through all of your childhood _ _ , _  the little voice in the back of his mind whispers. 

Fucking hell. This is all Magnus’ fault. Why would he have to drag his mother into this. She’s nothing like Even, anyway.

He tosses and turns in his bed, like he somehow thinks that a different body position would make him forget everything that’s happened today. He looks at his phone. 22.48.

Maybe it’s just better to put on a movie and be done with it. 

  
  


* * *

 

The next morning, as he gets up and staggers into the kitchen, there’s a cup of hot chocolate on the counter. Magnus has already left for work, but Isak sees this for what it is. A peace offering. 

The chocolate isn’t that hot anymore, but it still tastes okay.

As he sits on the tram, his thoughts stray back to yesterday, and he can’t help but feel slightly nauseous. He has no idea what awaits him at work today. Laughter? Awkwardness? Outright hostility? Some rumours must have spread. He wonders what people think, and if what they’ve heard even is remotely close to the truth.

He still doesn’t feel any shame about what he said and did, though. Even if he has brought his own downfall upon himself. He’s sure that he did the right thing. 

As he gets off the tram and walks towards the hospital, he sees a familiar, long-legged figure slouching against the wall beside the entrance.

“Hi!” Even looks up, and starts walking towards him, all smile and reassurance. 

“Hi?” Isak feels a little confused. They’ve never waited for each other in the morning before. Besides, they’re in different departments today, so they’ll have to part ways in just a few minutes, anyway.

“I thought you might be kinda nervous about coming here today,” Even explains. “So I decided to walk you inside. Is that okay?”

If it’s okay? He almost can’t hide his laughter. “I’d like that,” he smiles.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Or, you know, maybe you’re right. I might actually be a little nervous.” He looks down, twisting the strings of his backpack between his fingers.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come up to surgery and personally hunt down whoever says something to you. Or about you.” Even smiles brightly. “Not that I think they will.”

“Okay.” He exhales, trying not to think about who might be brave enough to say something about this to his face. He rather expects them to gossip behind his back.

“Can I see you at lunch?” Even asks.

“Yeah. In the intern’s break room?”

“Sure. Or, we could, you know, buy a sandwich and sit outside. It’s officially spring now, after all.”

Something stirs in his stomach at that. A bench in the sun. Just the two of them.

“Yeah.” He looks down at his feet, and then up at Even’s soft smile. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll text you later, okay? I’m in the ward all day, so I can probably get away whenever you’re ready.”

They’ve reached the elevators now, and Even really has to catch one if he’s going to make it to the morning meeting on time.

“Sounds good.” 

Even smiles, and disappears behind the elevator’s sliding metal doors.   
  


 

* * *

 

As Isak enters the operation corridor from the locker room, his senses are on hyperdrive. It’s like he’s listening everywhere to hear something whispered from a corner, or behind a supplies shelf. Two anesthesiologists pass him by, not granting him as much as a look. A few nurses stand chatting by the right-hand wall, also ignoring him completely. 

No whispers, no looks. It feels almost normal.

The monitor on the wall shows him that three procedures have already started. Two laparotomies, one nephrectomy. Neither of them is performed by dr Sundby. 

He decides to get it over with, and pulls open the door to room nine, one of the laparotomies. The surgeon in charge hasn’t been summoned yet, but the surgical nurse is already in place, busy placing all sterile instruments on a table covered with a blue cloth. The patient is already put to sleep, the anesthetic nurse fiddling with the airway tube as she fastens it to the patient’s lips with a strip of silky tape. An assistant nurse is on the phone in the corner.

Isak clears his throat.

“Do you think it’s okay if I join?”

The surgical nurse looks up at him, indifference all over her face.

“I guess so,” she says in a disinterested voice. “Grab a stool.”

And she turns to go get something from a locker by the far wall. 

It really seems like they don’t know. Or, that they don’t care. The lump in his stomach is slowly starting to dissolve. 

As the surgeon, one of the residents that Isak has met and talked to on a few occasions, enters, everything feels almost normal again. Isak washes his hands, gets dressed in a sterile gown by the nurse, and grabs a hook. 

Two hours later, he exits the room after being allowed to staple the midline cut together. He fishes out his phone to see three messages from Even, and one from Magnus. His thumb hovers for a second, and then he opens Even’s messages first.

 

_ From Even _

_ 8.23 _

I’ve asked around a little 

and it seems that none of doctors in the ward has heard what happened yesterday

don’t worry, I didn’t mention you or anything

just asked about where Sundby was and apparently he’s called in sick today

_ 9.37 _

I just ran into the theatre nurse from yesterday 

you know she’s always kind of friendly with me so she told me that sundby didn’t call for a new assistant after we all left the room

He just finished it all by himself although it was really tricky 

and she didn’t think he’d tell anyone else 

He didn’t say a word to them about it for the whole time 

He’s probably ashamed or something i guess

But she was really impressed with you and emma both and she said she wanted you to know that it was about time someone said that to his face 

but she also told me to ask you please not to tell anyone she said that because you never know who’ll find out

_ 9.46 _

But i’ll see you at lunch right? 

let me know when you’re ready   
  


_ Is this for real _ . If there was any tension left in him still, it now dissipates completely.    
  


_ To Even _

_ 9.58 _

That’s good to hear

Thank you

And yeah I’ll see you at lunch

 

He almost adds a “can’t wait”, but decides against it last minute. It’s not like they’re dating or anything. 

Sighing, he opens the next message thread, unsure of what to expect.

 

_ From Magnus _

_ 8.42 _

hey dude i’m sorry about yesterday

it was wrong of me to say those things about even 

and about you and your mom. really 

i know it’s been hard on you and i just didn’t think okay?

can you please come down to the er and we can have coffee and i can apologise for real

_ 9.08 _

please isak

i’m sorry for real 

 

Another weights leaves his chest. He really doesn’t want to stay mad at Magnus.

 

_ To Magnus _

_ 10.02 _

Chill dude

It’s ok

I’m on my way

  
  


True to his word, Isak heads for the elevator.

  
  


* * *

 

Coffee with Magnus in the ER break room is a blur of “I’m sorry”, “No, I’m sorry”, “It’s okay” and endless bro-hugs, before Magnus has to head back to the never-ending line of patients in the waiting room. 

Isak is standing in the corridor outside the small doctor’s office behind the surgical station, considering if it’s worth going back up to attend some other procedure before lunch, as a nurse he doesn’t know if he’s seen before walks by and quickly looks up at him.

“Hi, Isak,” she smiles.

And just as fast, she’s gone again. 

_ What was that about.  _ Weird.

He picks up his phone to look at the time. 11.02. It’s basically lunch time, right?

 

_ To Even _

_ 11.03 _

I’m free now

Lunch?

  
  


_ From Even _

_ 11.04 _

Meet me at the cafeteria in 10

  
  


_ To Even _

_ 11.05 _

*thumbs up emoji*

  
  


* * *

 

Just like in Isak’s vision, they take their sandwiches outside, walking around the back of the main building to find a fairly secluded bench surrounded by lilac bushes. They’re not exactly covered in leaves yet, but there are buds all over the branches, threatening to burst any day now. Sitting down, shielded from the light breeze, it’s warm enough to be comfortable in just their white scrubs, short sleeves and all.

If it wasn’t for how last night ended, Isak would feel completely at peace. 

He can’t forget the look on Even’s face the second before his phone buzzed, interrupting their conversation. The heavy air between them in their imaginary bubble, lying on the living room floor. Or the way Even closed the door softly behind him as he walked out. 

Even, though, seems as relaxed as usual. One long leg thrown over the other, white soft pants riding up to reveal a pale, bony ankle, scattered with sparse brown hairs. Isak finds himself wondering over the fact that they even make pants that long, and if it’s hard for Even to find scrubs that fit.

“So, next week,” Even says.

As if he could forget.

“Can’t believe I have to get up at five to catch the bus. Why do they have to send us all the way down there?”

“Haven’t you ever been to the Swedish west coast?”

“Well, we went to Koster once, when I was little, around six or so. But I hardly remember anything about it.”

“That’s not where we’re going, though. Unfortunately. But I think Smögen will do. Good shrimp, if nothing else.”

That’s right. Even studied in Gothenburg. 

“Did you go there? When you lived in Gothenburg, I mean?”

“God, yes. It’s all they ever do in Gothenburg. When they’re not visiting the coast, they’re talking about going there, or recite last weekend when they were there. Don’t know why they bother with that city at all, to be honest.”

It’s the first time he’s heard Even say anything remotely dismissive about something, and he has to stifle a laugh.

“So, you’re not keen on going back there?”

“Oh, I am,” Even smiles. “It’s pretty awesome there, actually. Didn’t mean to sound rude, but I was just really ready to leave Gothenburg and go home at the end, so maybe my feelings about that city aren’t completely, like, resolved.”

“What happened?” Isak senses some kind of discomfort radiating from Even. He’s been hinting a lot about moving here and there, needing to get away from things, but every time Isak has asked, Even has successfully diverted the conversation elsewhere. He doesn’t want to push, but he also really wants to know.

“I’ll tell you,” Even says. “I promise. Just not now, though. If that’s okay with you.” He takes a bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully, facing forward, stare a little distant. There are three freckles on the side of his neck, like a path down to where the crook of his neck slopes into his shoulder.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Isak responds.

Even turns his head to look him in the eyes. His face is unreadable, and he doesn’t say anything. 

“I think I maybe do,” he says, finally. Isak feels utterly confused. Owe him what?

But Even has already averted his gaze, and taken another bite. Isak looks down at his own, barely half-eaten brie baguette. He probably should eat the rest, but he’s not sure he can manage much more, the way his stomach keeps heaving and turning.

“So, any plans for the weekend?” he says instead, just to say something.

“Not much,” Even says. “I’m meeting Sonja later.” 

Sonja. Isak doesn’t ask, yesterday’s stoned confession from Even hanging heavily between them, and Even doesn’t tell.

“For the rest,” Even continues, “I think I’m gonna take it pretty easy. Get ready for next week.”

“Yeah,” Isak exhales. “What do you think they’ll make us do? More communication exercises?”

“Probably,” Even nods with a small laugh. “I sense lots of group dynamics discussions coming.”

“You’re probably right.” Isak groans. “I hate those things. They always want to make you confess stuff in front of others, and then sit there and have everybody pick your feelings apart.” He had enough of that during university, for sure.

“I think it’s okay. I mean, I’ve been through enough therapy to be used to discuss my feelings with others,” Even says. “It’s just that five days of constant social interaction can be a little tiring.”

Therapy? Did he just drop that piece of information so casually? Magnus’ words from yesterday come to mind again. Does he dare ask about it? 

A shrill tone interrupts him. Even’s beeper. He picks it up from his pocket, eyeing the small display on the top.

Even sighs. “The ward. Lots of people being sent home today, before the weekend and all, so they probably need me for something like that.” He puts the beeper back in his pocket. “Better just head up there, I guess.”

“Yeah. I should get back to work, too. Last hours of fun for a while.”

“Don’t say that,” Even winks. “I know how much you enjoy a good group dynamics workshop.”

He can’t help but laugh. They stand up, Isak a little unsure of what he should do with the remains of his sandwich. He ends up just throwing in the bin by the entrance as they walk back inside.

“See you Monday morning, then,” Even says as they part ways by the elevators once more.

“Yeah. See you.” And Isak goes to enjoy his last few hours in the operation room for a foreseeable future.

  
  


* * *

 

He might kind of deliberately avoid going home at the same time as Even that day, not sure that he can stomach having to see him kiss Sonja in close-up once more. 

The weekend passes by quite uneventfully, until Saturday afternoon, when his phone pings with a notification.

 

_ Facebook _

_ Even Bech Naesheim sent you a friend request _

 

Who even uses Facebook nowadays? He huffs out a disbelieving laugh, and immediately opens the app to accept.

Isak has a Facebook profile of his own, of course, but he surely hasn’t posted anything for the last three years. His profile picture is just some unrecognizable picture of him from behind, down by Aker Brygge, taken by Eva when they were probably 20 or so. 

Even’s page is equally sparse. Some artsy pictures, birthday greetings, pictures of him and Sonja together in the summer, smiling at the camera. Those pictures don’t look exactly new, though - they look at least a few years younger than they are now. He wonders if they stayed together through Even’s years in Gothenburg.  _ I was really ready to go home at the end. _ Home to Sonja, probably. 

Their conversation on Thursday night worms his way into his mind again. How can you even break up with someone if you’ve been together for twelve whole years? You don’t stay together for that long in the first place, if it isn’t something special.

He studies Evens profile again. Born February 12. From Oslo. Went to Elvebakken. Went to Gothenburg University.

There’s no relationship status. Maybe that’s for the easiest, if they have been so much on and off.

Wonders what his own profile looks like nowadays. He clicks on it, and his first thought is that it looks so old – the blue and white graphics can’t have changed much for the last ten years. There’s not much new there about himself, either – the last posts on his wall are some birthday greetings from former classmates last June. 

His profile information doesn’t give away much, just like Even’s. Born June 21. From Oslo. Went to Hartvig Nissen. Went to UiO. He never bothered with a relationship status, either. 

Well, if everything else about him is out there, maybe it’s better to be clear. 

His finger hovers over the touchpad, and then he decides. Changes his relationship status from blank, to single.

The truth shall set you free, and all that.

He considers starting up a movie, but starts thinking about Monday again. He’d probably check if he should wash anything before the trip. Don’t want to wear the same clothes all week, after all.

The washing machine is maybe halfway through its spin cycle, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

He opens it, to find Eva standing outside in the hallway.

“Spill,” is all she says, as she shoulders past him and hangs her jacket up on a hook on the wall.

“What?”

She turns around, an amused smile on her lips. “When do I get to meet this mysterious ex of yours?”

This doesn’t make any sense at all.

“My ex?”

“Now that you’re single, and all.”

_ Oh my god. _ There is no fucking limit to the nosiness and the jumping to conclusions with some people. He rolls his eyes, almost feeling the urge to do it twice for emphasis.

“My god, Eva. Is your life really that uneventful that you have to hang yourself up on such small details about others? I was just going through my profile, and saw that I hadn’t updated it in ages, okay?”

“Okay. Mm. So this has nothing to do with your newest ‘friend’, then?” She marks the quotations with her fingers in the air.

“What friend?”

“The one that you just before that became Facebook friends with? Just thought there was something familiar about his picture and the name. Even. Almost like I met him before.”

He glares at her. 

“He added me, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She swings her long, auburn hair around and starts walking down the hall, heading for the kitchen.

“He has a girlfriend, Eva!” he calls after her. He can’t believe this.

“Well, that’s useful information.” She turns around in the doorway to the kitchen and grins. 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just something I thought about last week or so. But you probably don’t have time to hear it. I mean, it’s not like you care a lot about Even, anyway. He’s just an acquaintance, am I right?” She opens the fridge and rummages around for a bit, finally producing a can of Coke.

Isak studies her through narrowed eyes.

“What?” she asks, smiling ever so innocently.

“What did you hear?”

“I don’t have to hear anything, Isak. I have eyes, you know.” She makes a ridiculous gesture to her face with her forefingers, and proceeds to open the Coke can. “I might have heard that you came home quite late the other day, though, reeking of weed and avoiding further questions.”

He rolls his eyes again, and turns to exit the kitchen. He doesn’t have time for this. The laundry is probably finished now, anyway.

Eva, fast as a fly, reaches out a hand and grabs his wrist, preventing him from walking away.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you.”

He gives her a pointed look.

“Okay then. I did.” She sighs, somewhat defeated. Then she looks serious, and the teasing grin is no longer there. “But, honestly. When I saw you two in the hospital – Isak, there’s no way you two are just friends.”

“We are.”  _ Unfortunately. _

“Yeah. The girlfriend, and all.”

“Yes. Among other things.”

“Like?”

He has to resist to roll his eyes for the third time. “What are you suggesting? That I’m in love with him or something? Because, Eva, that would just be bad self-preservation from my side.” 

He points a finger at her chest, jabbing it in once for each sentence. “He is taken. He is straight. And, well.” 

The words ‘so am I’ are very close to rolling off his tongue. He bites it down quickly. It’s one thing to admit things to himself, and something else to do it to others. But it might be easier to not outright lie, after all. It always gets so complicated and time-consuming to sort things out afterwards.

She eyes him silently, not exactly pitying, but with compassion. He doesn’t really know where to look.

“Wanna watch a movie?” she says, eventually.

He nods. “Transformers?”

She smiles. “Sounds perfect.”

Through the second half of the movie, Eva holds him, silently, both of them half-lying on the couch. He leans into her, aching and grateful at the same time.

After she’s gone home, he hangs the laundry and thinks about Monday. About what Eva said, and what she claims that she saw.  _ There’s no way you two are just friends _ . What if that could be true? What if Even would really break up with Sonja? What if there is a chance, just the slightest chance, that what Isak feels, Even does too? If all those lingering glances and almost-touches really do carry a meaning for him as well? 

If there was a chance, an opening, an opportunity do actually do something about his feelings.  _ What would he do? _

It’s not like he hasn’t hooked up with anyone before. No serious relationship, that’s for sure (he guesses he can’t really count the weeks he dated Sara in first grade), but there has been occasional kissing, and such. Girls, mostly in high school, because that’s what you did. It hasn’t been totally unpleasant, as such, but not especially exciting, either. As long as there was just kissing, he could do it well enough. As for more, well, he has managed to avoid too much of that so far.

Last spring, though, he actually did hook up with a guy. God, he was so drunk. His cheeks burn a little with the memory. He didn’t even know his name - it was at one of the end-of-term parties during the final month of university - but they just found each other, somehow, and the next thing he knew, he was pressed against a wall in some hallway in the back of the pub. He does remember the feeling of stubble against his cheek, of strong hands gripping his shoulders, not at all like with any of the girls he had hooked up with so far. At the time he blamed it on the alcohol, but the feeling was overwhelming, new – and so much  _ more. _

However, he wasn’t drunk enough to go with it as the guy pressed even closer, obvious hardness between them. Suddenly, it was far too intense and he remembers pushing the guy off, borderline panicking, leaving the guy flustered and sneaking out the back to head home.

What if something along the lines of that would happen with Even, though? A tingling feeling rushes through his bones at the memory of that latest hook-up, combined with the thought of Even. It’s hot and cold at the same time, and his vision swims for a split second.

Five days. How is he even gonna survive this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tag says slow burn, right? ;)
> 
> Next chapter will feature the trip to Sweden - promise!
> 
> And feel free to come and talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much awaited trip begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual. I can only hope that the content will make up for it ;)
> 
> Again, there is no one out there like [vesperthine](vesperthine.tumblr.com), believe me!

By Sunday night, Isak has packed and unpacked his bag at least three times. A few t-shirts, pants, underwear, and a couple of button-downs – he goes for the green one that Eva says brings out the colour of his eyes – since there’s sure to be a fancy dinner of the kind where they’re supposed to dress up for a bit. Probably on the final night. Some running gear goes in too, and, after weighing the small plastic bag in his hand a few times back and forth – some weed. Just in case. It might be needed at the end of the day.

Suddenly, his phone pings.

 

_From Even_

_20.37_

Don’t forget your swimwear. See you in the morning :)

 

_Swimwear?_  Checking the email from the hotel again, he googles it, and sees pictures of a pool and sauna on the website. His stomach tightens at the sight. Wonder if there’s a shared sauna for men and women? Or are they separate, like at the indoor swimming pool? From what he remembers when he went there with his mother as a child, swimwear was strictly forbidden in the sauna.

A dizzying feeling runs through him. Resigned, he gets his swim trunks from the wardrobe and puts them in the bag.

 

_To Even_

_20.42_

Yeah, see you

 

He checks his alarm again. Eight hours to go. Better get to sleep.

 

* * *

 

His phone goes off at five o’clock sharp, when he’s gotten a couple of hours of sleep – if he’s generous. The week ahead, all the workshops where he’ll probably be forced to one exercise more strenuous than the other, and the insecurity about how this week will turn out, are all things that kept him tossing and turning and hopelessly awake.

And to be honest, the thought of Even hasn’t calmed him this weekend, like it used to. It has only made him feel thin. Like treading this line of wanting to be near Even at all cost, and at the same time trying to not get any ideas - since Even is neither available or interested - is starting to take its toll.

With a sigh, he gets out of bed, and gets dressed.

As he walks into the parking lot located to the right of the main entrance of the hospital, the bus is starting its engines and everyone is boarding. He’s the last one to arrive, after Even, who’s standing on the bottom step at the front of the bus. He smiles as their eyes meet.

There are more seats than people inside, which is a godsend – if Isak had to sit next to someone, he would be drooling on their shoulder within minutes. Even sits down at a window seat and looks up at him, but Isak’s legs just keep walking past without him having a say. He shoots Even a nervous smile and continues down the aisle to the back row, collapsing next to the window.

He’s asleep by the time the bus leaves the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

As the bus comes to a stop over three hours later, he jerks awake, neck stiff and drool on his chin. For a moment, he’s utterly disoriented, but then he looks out the window and spots rows and rows of tiny houses crammed together on a rocky slope. It leads down to a row of multicoloured wooden huts, perched along a narrow boardwalk lining the sea. Behind the houses, rounded grey cliffs arise, and seagulls circle the air above, screaming ceaselessly.

Everyone is already getting out of the bus, and still sleep-drunk, Isak grabs his bag and follows, last in line.

Even throws him a teasing grin over his shoulder as he exits the bus. “Slept well?” he says, as they head for the hotel reception.

Isak almost wants to flip him off, but settles for a heavy-lidded glare. “Shut up.” It takes just a small effort to contain his smile.

“I’m just kidding.” Even puts a big hand on his shoulder and squeezes a little, and  just like that, Isak is wide awake, nerve endings on fire all the way down to his toes from the simple touch. “You look peaceful when you’re sleeping, though.”

His stomach does a backflip at Even’s words, and the hand still on his shoulder does nothing to calm it. “You’ve been watching me sleep? Creepy.”

“I have.” Even smiles, teasing. “Don’t worry, just long enough to wipe some spit off your chin.”

“Fuck off!” Isak laughs and tries to shove him, but it ends up in quite the opposite as Even tightens his grip on him instead, pulling him into a half-sideways hug. As opposed to the other day at the tram stop, Even doesn’t let go. Just pulls him tighter into his side as they keep walking. Isak can’t help but melt into it a little, his nose level with the freckles on Even’s neck when he bends his head down a little. The smell of shampoo, deodorant and something else that is unmistakably and only Even, makes his head spin.

Composing himself, he lifts his head only to see that they have reached the reception desk. Even doesn’t make a move to let go of him.

The receptionist looks up and smiles politely at them.

“Welcome! OUS seminar?” she says and grabs two sets of room keys from the wall behind her. “We only have single rooms, I’m afraid,” she adds with another, more genuine smile, glancing at Even’s arm around his shoulder.

Isak can feel himself blushing instantaneously. “We’re not - I mean -” he stutters, but Even just laughs and finally lets go of him to accept the keys.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be next door,” Even says, eyebrows lifting suggestively.

_Where did this come from._  Even acts so excited, giddy almost. A fleeting memory of Magnus’ gossip crosses Isak’s head. _Is this alright? Is he alright?_ He turns to Even, trying to search his eyes for something foreign, detached. Is there even a way of knowing?

It’s not like something else feels off.

“Come on,” Even says, and pulls him along down the hall. “Let’s check out our rooms.”

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, there’s not much time for that. The seminar starts off right away, since one of vice directors of OUS apparently has come all the way down here to talk about the hospital’s values and guidelines for two hours. Isak is forced to sit beside her at lunch, but does his best to show a polite interest in whatever she says. Might be she has some leverage when it comes to hiring. Even sits at the far end of the table, and they haven’t had the chance to say another word to each other since they got here.

After lunch, there is a four-hour long seminar with group discussions about how they, as doctors, best can reinforce said values and implement them in their daily work. Isak rolls his eyes internally at finding out, trying not to let it show. Even and him don’t end up in the same group of fours – Isak has to settle for fleeting glances at the other end of the room, where Even’s group is seated. Even seems to take an active part in the discussions, big hands flying around as he makes his point clear to the others.

By five o’clock, Isak is bored out of his mind, and his thoughts already start wandering to the bed in his hotel room. Room 304. He thinks, but he’s not sure, that Even got the adjacent room.

Wonder how thin the walls are. If he’ll be able to hear Even at night, maybe talking on the phone to someone at home, listening to music. Wonder what he would sound like if he -

Squirming in his chair, he forces all such thoughts out of his head.

Yet something tugs at his stomach at the thought that tonight, as he goes to sleep, he’ll be so near to Even, and yet so far away.

“Are you coming?” He snaps his head up.

Oh. It’s Emma, standing in front of him, impatiently tapping her foot against the floor. “What?”

“The tour? Walking around the village?”

Right. The others are halfway out the door. He drags himself to his feet, tired already. Emma looks at him and smiles, and Isak tries to respond with the same, but he’s not sure if he manages.

Surprisingly enough, it turns out the village is really pleasant to walk through, and with a quite interesting history. Isak can’t help but be fascinated as the tour guide recites the story of how the Danish king was forced to give away the tiny island to Sweden as a peace offering in the 17th century. The tour passes quicker than expected, and before he knows it, it’s dinner time.

He finds himself squeezed between Emma and another one of the lecturers: a sixty-something rheumatologist that talks non-stop about his absolutely pointless research for two and a half hours straight. As their dessert plates are taken away, Isak can barely sit upright anymore, faint with boredom and exhaustion.

He excuses himself to the bathroom, and sprints for his room as soon as he’s out of sight around the corner. Flopping down onto the bed, he picks up his phone to delight in blessed solitude.

Magnus has sent him some stupid memes during the day, and the occasional cute cat picture, in true Magnus style. Apparently, Jonas and Eva are at some hipster play in Oslo, because they have both uploaded pictures to Instagram from the foyer, decorated in neon signs on concrete walls. Eva has also sent him a message. The first one just a red heart, and the second: five hearts in rainbow colours.

Something warm settles in his chest, the thought of how she held him on the couch the other day soothing him, comforting. He turns his phone over in his hand a few times, wondering how to respond. In the end he settles for a simple _Thank you. love you._ She’s probably at the play now, so he doesn’t wait for a response, and starts scrolling through his Facebook app instead.

After a while, the solitude isn’t that enjoyable anymore. A restlessness is creeping up on him, making his legs twitch a little, and he wonders what the others are still doing. More precisely, what Even might be doing. Maybe he’s chatting with the professors? Or that godawful rheumatologist. Or maybe with Julian.

Sitting up, he’s suddenly unsettled. Would it be so bad to go out there again? Just as he starts looking around the floor for his shoes, a loud thud comes from the other side of the wall. He can almost swear he hears a muffled, low voice cursing, and he smiles to himself, resisting the urge to put an ear to the wall.

He moves closer to it anyway.

A light quirk means that the person on the other side of the wall most probably have sunken down on their bed as well. If only he could be sure of who it is – he’s about fifty percent sure it’s Even, but he doesn’t want to knock if it’s someone else. He scoots a little closer to the wall, bouncing slightly, and the bed creaks.

After about ten seconds, his phone pings.

 

_From Even_

_20.24_

Just so you know, your bed is pretty noisy

  


Warmth and longing fills his stomach. _How can you miss someone that’s literally less than a metre away?_

  


_From Even_

_20.25_

Tired?

  


_To Even_

_20.25_

Yeah

But also a little restless I guess

You?

  


_From Even_

_20.26_

Want to go for a walk? There’s something I’d like to show you

  


The restlessness does not subside from that. Quite the opposite - but now, it feels more thrilling than unsettling. He raises his hand, and knocks on the wall above the bed, a playful rhythm.

In just a few seconds, there’s a knock from the other side as well. He smiles to himself and gets up to put on his shoes and jacket. Stepping out in the hallway, he lets the door to his own room fall shut and knocks on Even’s door instead.

Even’s standing just inside, already wrapped in a red, woolen scarf and an army-green jacket, grinning widely.

“Let’s go,” he says, and steps out the door and down the corridor, Isak following right behind. As they enter the front yard, Isak falls into step beside him, and they continue down around the corner of the wooden building, heading down to the water in silence. Scrawny, windswept pine trees line the path down to a small, sandy beach wedged between the grey cliffs rising on both sides.

It’s not completely dark yet, a faint purplish glow still lingering by the horizon, and there’s just a slight wind in the trees. The air is chilly, but it smells of salt and spring, some trace of wilderness and freedom to it.

“So, smooth exit you did there,” Even says as they near the water’s edge.

Isak huffs. “You noticed.” Even turns around, an amused look on his face.

“I did. Took it as a cue to slip out myself.” He smiles a little apologetically. “I kinda had enough for the day as well.”

“Tired?”

“You could say that I needed a break. This kind of hard-core social interaction takes its toll eventually.”

“You’re hanging out with me now.” It’s not a question so much as an observation.

The look in Even’s eyes turns warm, fond almost. “You’re nothing like the rest,” he says in low, sincere voice.

Isak’s breath hitches, leaving him unable to say anything in return.

Even studies him for a moment, wordlessly, and then he turns around and starts climbing up the cliffs to the right. There’s no question not to follow.

They keep walking, half-climbing across the grey, naked cliffs. Some are big and flat, others smaller, rounder. Tufts of heather line the crevices inbetween, occasionally so deep that they have to jump across.

After maybe twenty minutes, they slowly make their way down towards the sea, Even taking the lead, to reveal a flat, smooth rock just above the waterline. It’s shaped almost like a stony couch, completely hidden from view from the rest of the island by the high-rising cliffs behind them. The wind is still, just like the sea, a faint shimmer of the now rising moon reflecting on the almost blank surface.

They sit down on the rock in silence, gazing out across the water, horizon almost impossible to make out in the distance.

“Didn’t I tell you it was beautiful here?” Even says.

That’s right. He’s been here before.

“Is this your secret spot or something?” Isak says – maybe a little harsher than intended, but he’s unsure whether he wants to find out how Even discovered this secluded little corner. Did he bring other people here? _Has he been here with Sonja?_

“We went to another training course here, when I studied in Gothenburg. Trauma care. Kind of had enough of the socializing at the end of day then, as well, so I went for a walk and found this place.”

“So you didn’t come here with Sonja?” Isak blurts out, unable to control himself. _God. He needs to chill._

Even furrows his brow. “Sonja? No.” He falls silent.

And here it is _again,_ that heavy air between them, full of something expectant. Isak can’t take it. He needs to say something, anything, to break the spell.

“Were you… off? When you studied in Gothenburg, I mean?” he tries.

“Some of the time, yes. But since I got back, we’ve mostly been on.” Even turns to face him, angling his whole body towards him with the movement.

Then he licks his lips, and fastens his gaze on Isak’s. “Not anymore, though.”

Isak’s heart starts beating faster. _What is he saying._

Even keeps watching him, looking a little unsure. Like he’s searching for something in Isak’s eyes. Palms sweating, heart racing, Isak’s gaze is glued to Even’s. It’s impossible to look away.

“Did you… did you break up? Like you said?” he breathes, whisper barely audible in the soft breeze.

“Friday,” Even answers, softly, so softly.

None of them look away.

Isak swallows. He thinks of last week, in surgery, of how seeing Even’s face, his blue, blue eyes, made him dare to do something he never thought himself capable of. The bravery it inspired in him.

He lifts a hand that’s shaking imperceptibly, reaches out, and puts his palm against Even’s cheek.

Even’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open a little, only just noticeable, but it looks like he’s surprised, or maybe scared. Panic shoots through Isak - _wrong wrong wrong abort abort he doesn’t want this he doesn’t want you_ \- and he goes cold all over, screaming inside at himself to remove his hand. But it’s like he’s frozen into place. He just keeps staring at Even – but when he finally comes to, and starts to draw back, Even’s left hand shoots up and grabs his wrist.

“Isak,” he says, just a single word, and lifts his right hand up to gently stroke the back of Isak’s neck, fingers lightly spreading through his hair.

Isak can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He grabs Even’s shoulder with his free hand, holds on for dear life, an leans in.

The kiss is nothing like he expected –  it’s so much more. Even’s lips are so soft and so firm at the same time, and when they brush against his own it reminds him of what he felt on the tram. The same thing Even said on Thursday, as they lay on his living room floor.

As if this has always been there, dormant, anticipating, waiting for him to finally come home.

And as Even lets go of his wrist, his right hand slips around to grab around Even’s neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Even’s hands slide around to his back, surrounding him everywhere. His head spins, disbelieving, not sure that this is actually happening for real. Yes, he has kissed before, but the memory of those kisses are hardly even accessible, like faint copies of the real thing, fading away deep down in a distant, dusty archive. This kiss makes him come alive, ignites every nerve ending in his skin, and throws a surge of want and need through his whole being.

He can’t get close enough. Clinging onto Even’s shoulder and neck with both hands, he throws a leg across him, climbs up into his lap, and flushes their chests together, kissing him even deeper.

It’s almost too much. Breathing heavily, he pulls back for a moment, holding Even’s face in his hands, watching him intensely, Even’s pupils wide in the dark, eyes full of wonder.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me like this,” Even whispers.

“Like this?”

He needs to hear it.

“I knew – or I was pretty sure – that you liked me as a friend, at least for the past month or so. But I wondered so many times if you felt it too, this – pull between us.” Even lifts a hand, caressing his cheek, then his neck, and leans forward to make their foreheads touch. “It’s like you’re a magnet. It was so hard not to touch you, that night we were at my apartment.”

“I know,” Isak breathes against his lips. “I felt it, too.”

At that, Even tousles a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and leans his head just a little to the side, so that they can kiss again, this time even closer, deeper, with more intent.

There’s something building in Isak’s stomach that is both scary and unspeakably wonderful at the same time; a feeling of wanting to be closer and closer still. _Is this what it feels like?_ To really, actually want someone, and know that you are wanted in return?

He’s never felt anything like it.

_Is it the same for Even, though?_  A sudden something rushes through his mind, making him pull back a little.

Even’s hands find his cheeks, stroking them softly.

“Are you alright?” he says in a low, slightly cracked voice.

Isak can feel himself hesitating. _Maybe he doesn’t want you anymore if he finds out about all your insecurities, your doubts, your fears._

He looks down between them, at Even’s chest, and draws a deep breath, but he still can’t decide what to say. _Is this real?_ he wants to ask. _Are you sure? You don’t even know me. And if you did, would you want me still?_

He can’t find it in himself to look up, doesn’t want to give it away. Just a minute ago, everything was so right, and now it’s just – too much. He can’t keep doing this without some sort of sign, some reassurance, or he’ll set himself up for breaking.

Even’s hands let go of his face, and instead he moves one hand to gently stroke his back, the other one resting on his head, caressing his hair ever so lightly.

”It might sound really stupid,” he says after a while, ”but I had been looking for some sort of – sign, for a while. Something that would give me the courage to take the leap, and to end things with Sonja. I promise I’ll explain it to you, later – but it’s been so hard. To actually just do it.”

_Why does he keep talking about her._  He doesn’t want to hear anymore about Sonja or how it was when her and Even were a couple. What is this, even? Is it just physical to Even? Is he some kind of rebound? A hook-up? Has he revealed his deepest secret, bared himself so much now, only for this?

Even’s hands start to feel a little suffocating, holding him too tight around his back and head. He’s on the verge of squirming out of his grip, when Even speaks again.

”But then I just knew, Isak. And – after Thursday, I was sure. How could I keep her hanging on, with the way I feel about you?”

He has to ask – or he’ll have to run, run away over the cliffs and hide in shame and embarrassment for the rest of the week, of his life. ”How – how do you feel about me?”

”Isak,” Even says, softly. ”You’re so beautiful, and brave, and so – good. It’s like I haven’t ever seen clearly before, but – but now I do.”

He looks up at Even, moonlight reflecting from the surface of the sea into his eyes. Even’s expression is so sincere, and his eyes seem bottomless, eternal. Isak realizes then, that Even could sense his discomfort, his insecurity, and that he told him exactly what he needed to hear, in this moment.

He gives in, and sighs, letting his forehead fall down on Even’s shoulder. _It’s safe,_  his mind tells him, and he lets himself believe it.

They hold each other, silently, his nose burrowing into Even’s neck, the now familiar scent surrounding him, carving out a safe space in his brain.

Even turns his head a little, placing a soft kiss on his hair.

”I know my thighs are very comfortable to sit on and all, but I’m getting quite stiff and cold,” Even murmurs somewhere near his ear. ”Maybe we could go back inside?”

Isak’s stomach curdles a little at the thought of going back there, together, on display. He doesn’t trust his face not to show what has happened if they run into anybody. ”What about the others?” he asks, tentatively.

“They won’t know. Unless we want them to.” Even lifts his head up and looks him in the eyes, searching, and somehow, Isak knows that he doesn’t have to say it. “Only when you’re ready,” he whispers.

Isak nods. “Let’s go, then.”

He climbs off Even’s lap, lacking any sort of grace, which elicits a small laugh from Even. He reaches out his hand to pull Even up, and they both stumble a little, legs stiff and backs sore from sitting on the rock for too long.

“Wait,” Even says. “Before we go back there –”

He lifts his hand to brush a strand of hair off Isak’s forehead, and then leans forward to kiss him once more.

This time, Isak doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back, wanting to show Even just how much he means it.

 

* * *

 

Walking up to the hotel a while later, they let go of each other’s hands as they round the corner of the building. Isak gazes in through the glass walls of the entrance, still slightly nervous that someone will see them and put two and two together.

“They’ll just think that we went for a walk to smoke some weed,” Even says. “Or something.”

He wants to believe that, but still eyes they corridor with caution as they walk towards their rooms, careful not to stray too close to Even. As they come to a halt outside their rooms, Even leans forward, turning his head, watchful look on his face.

Isak realizes that he didn’t even think about what they’re gonna do now that they’re inside. Most probably, they’re just going to bed in their separate rooms. It’s not like he’s getting any ideas. Plus, if he’s honest, the idea of actually sharing a bed with Even scares him a little.

It’s not that he doesn’t long for it. The mere thought of being that close to Even, body and mind - and, likely with less clothes on - makes him hot all over. There’s an ache in his whole being for exactly that. But, the few times he’s actually been that intimate with someone was long ago, and all with girls.

Which, he has to admit by now, maybe wasn’t his thing.

Or, maybe Even doesn’t want that at all. Maybe they’re just supposed to go off to their separate beds. Isak sure as hell knows he’s not going to sleep for a second, but it might be for the better. Safer.

He shoves his right hand in his jeans pocket and starts digging around for his keys. Suddenly, Even grabs his other wrist and tugs at him, quickly drawing in him through his now open door, closing it shut as soon as they’re inside.

His back against the door, he looks around the room, as if somebody would be hiding in there, about to jump out and expose them. Even’s just as calm as ever, though, standing in front of him, all smile and reassurance, looking at him a little expectantly. It makes him nervous – the air in here much denser than down by the sea somehow, like this is their final destination.

So what happens now, exactly? He glances over at Even’s bed. The room is just the same as his own, only mirrored, so that the bed is up against the same wall as Isak’s is, from the other side. It’s not a very spacious bed - if they lie there together, Isak won’t be able to hide anything. How wide can it be? 100? 120?

Wonder what size his own bed at home is. Probably 90. Maybe 95.

Even moves his hand to stroke his cheek. “Isak. We don’t have to do anything. I’d just really like to lie in bed together with you. And hold you. If you want to.”

Once again, it kind of stuns him how Even almost seems to be able to read his mind.

“Yeah. I do.”

As they crawl into bed a moment later, both in their t-shirts and boxers, Evens lifts the duvet to let Isak crawl in under it, and as promised, he holds him. Even is on his back, Isak’s head resting on his shoulder, arm across his chest. He breathes in the now familiar scent of Even, nose touching the freckles on the side of his neck, tracing them up and down, until he falls asleep at last.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com)! Your messages and asks never fail to make me happy. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and messages! It is such a privilege to get to interact with you all - I mean it.
> 
> The trip to Smögen continues in this chapter - I hope you’ll all like it!

The next morning, Isak wakes slowly, surfacing from sleep in increments. His eyes are still closed as he regains consciousness, first noticing how warm he is; then, he remembers what happened last night.

Suddenly, he’s wide awake.

He’s instantly also very aware that he’s lying flush against Even’s back, with his own nose mere inches from his neck. As he opens his eyes, all he sees is a lot of Even-hair, wavy, light brown, and slightly sweaty at the nape of his neck. He’s warm, just on the right side of too much, comfortable and so calm. It’s already light outside, a few narrow sunbeams falling onto the floor from beside the curtain, bathing the room in a dull, golden glow.

His eyes follow the line of vertebrae on Even’s neck, leading down into his t-shirt, and he notices a birthmark just above the collar that he never saw before. Even’s breathing is heavy and slow, and he lies completely still. Isak hesitates for a moment, and then dares to slip a hand around Even’s waist, coming to rest on his stomach, on the outside of his t-shirt.

_God._  The feeling of holding Even like this, trying to comprehend that this somehow might be _his,_  makes his head spin and his body feel even warmer throughout. He pulls his whole upper body a little closer still.

And that’s when he feels it - Even pressing back against him with his lower back. And oh. Okay. He’s suddenly embarrassed – he hadn’t noticed that he’s actually been lying here with a boner. There’s no way of hiding _that_ now, though.

Is Even really asleep? Does he feel this, too? He can’t decide if he should draw back and pretend like nothing happened, or if that’s gonna be even weirder if Even is actually awake. His mind racing, breathing shallow, he keeps his hand on Even’s stomach very still, futilely hoping for the situation in his boxers to solve itself somehow.

“Isak,” Even suddenly mumbles. _Is he awake after all?_  There’s no more time to think about that, however, as Even puts his hand over Isak’s on his stomach, and okay, he’s definitely awake, and there’s no way he doesn’t notice what is happening behind him. Isak can feel himself blushing.

“Isak,” Even sighs again, and then he clumsily turns around to face him, draping an arm around Isak’s back. He lifts his chin, lips finding Isak’s own, warm and sleep-soft, and Isak dares relax a little. They kiss, slowly, lingering at first, and then Even draws him even closer with a hand on his lower back, and _okay._  Isak is definitely not the only one with a boner in here.

The kissing becomes deeper, more intent, and there’s no way Isak can resist any of this. The fact that he's only barely awake makes it easier to kiss Even back without restraint, to give in. As he opens his mouth a little more, showing Even just how much he wants it, Even presses himself even closer and oh god. This. Isak is dying. How can anything feel this good. He can’t help but moan a little against Even’s mouth, letting his tongue slide even further inside.

At that, Even leans a little over him, making him fall down onto his back, and rolls his whole body over so that he’s more or less lying on top of Isak. The weight of him is comforting, reassuring, and intensely arousing. Isak can hardly breathe, but in a good way, and when Even pulls even closer, pressing their hips together once more, he’s not the only one who moans.

If Even still has any doubts about if Isak really wants this, they should be gone by now. But Isak wants to show him. He lifts his arms up to grab around Even’s back at first, stroking him, reassuring him, and then moves his hands further down, to the small of his back, and draws him even closer, with clear intent.

“Isak,” Even whispers hoarsely, for the third time, but Isak isn’t sure that he really expects an answer. He’s not sure he’ll be able to give one anyway.

Not verbally, at least.

As the kisses become even more open-mouthed, and their lower bodies flush even closer together, Isak is feeling something building in his lower stomach again, just like last night. This is so much more intense, though – something hot and melting, tightening, and he realizes that he might actually come soon, if they keep this up. It’s not like he doesn’t want to – but he wants it to last a little longer, if he can. And frankly, he’s not sure what Even would think about him coming in his pants after two minutes of making out, like a teenager.

So he pushes Even off of himself, reluctantly, and flips them both over so that Even is the one lying on his back now. He looks like a dream – lips puffy and a little spit-slick, cheeks red, with sweaty strands of hair lining his face. He looks at Isak like he’s some sort of otherworldly being, with awe and wonder, and suddenly, Isak feels a bit self-conscious. What now? Should he put his hand on Even’s dick? He maybe – probably – expects him to?

The only dick he has touched so far in his life is his own, and sure, he knows how to make himself feel good, but this is… something else. Borderline scary, to be honest, yet intensely exciting.

Even lifts his hand from Isak’s side to stroke his cheek, and whispers: “I’ve never done this before. With a guy, I mean.”

Isak breathes out a sigh of relief. “Me neither,” he admits, then, and it’s so freeing, somehow, to know that he’s not alone in this – and that Even makes sure to know that he’s okay. His uncertainty dissolves for a bit, and as Even reaches down between them to put his hand on Isak, it’s not difficult for him do the same to Even.

It feels strange – touching a dick that‘s not his own – but so good, and after just a little while, it’s nothing short of amazing. He keeps his eyes on Even’s the whole time, sees the blue of his eyes almost blacken out as his pupils widen even more. Without a doubt, he knows that this is mutual, that they’re in this together now. Eventually, he’s unable to look anymore, and he closes his eyes just before everything whitens out and it’s all over for the both of them.

He falls down half on top of Even, panting, exhausted, face against the side of his neck, almost like he has to hide from view for a bit to piece himself back together. _Oh my god. This really happened._  He can’t believe that it’s real. That Even is real. He lets his hand come up to stroke Even’s chest, almost to assure himself of his existence.

He feels Even press a kiss to his hair, and then scooting down so that they’re facing each other again, and he looks Isak right in the eyes. His gaze is so intense, but so fond, and if Isak didn’t know better, he’d think they always have been like this. That they’ve known each other for longer than they’ve even existed, somehow. That eternity lives in their very bones and swirls around them in this bed, this morning.

They lie there for a minute, or an hour – who can say – without even saying a word. It’s not needed. Not right now.

A shrill beep suddenly cuts through the stillness. Even turns around, reaching for his phone, and eyes it reluctantly.

“Seminar starts in twenty minutes,” he sighs, throwing his arm up onto the pillow, somewhere above his head. “Do we really need to go?”

Isak huffs. “It’ll look pretty suspicious if we both don’t show up, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Even smiles, and kisses his forehead. “I’m just trying to think of a way to maybe stay in here with you, forever.”

Isak smiles back, one last long look into Even’s eyes. “Later.”

“Yeah. Later.” Even kisses him again, softly, lingering, and then rolls over on his other side, dragging him along and out of bed.

He tries to make his legs start moving for the door, but it’s like he’s afraid this bubble will break if he does. In a way, it will, of course, but he just wants to hold on. Forever, if he can.

“Hey. I’ll see you at breakfast.” Even cards his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” he smiles, and leans forward to let their lips touch once more.

Then he finally goes to sneak out the door, and into his room to change.

 

* * *

 

The morning seminar starts at eight, and it’s about some sort of scientific methodology. Probably. Isak isn’t really sure - if he had a hard time concentrating yesterday, it’s got nothing on this. He’s utterly incapable of listening to a word anyone says. Unless it would be something on the topic of Even, his mind completely enveloped in what happened this morning. And last night, a little. But first and foremost, his mind wanders to Even’s bed, Even’s body, of feeling him so close.

It’s hard, imagining that just twenty-four hours ago he was sitting on that bus, unsure of everything. Of Even, of himself. Wondering if he was imagining things, thinking that Even was completely straight, and still together with Sonja. And now, a couple of hours ago, they did _that._  Isak did that. His head spins a little, focus momentarily blurry, and he has to close his eyes at the thought. A part of him is slightly embarrassed, but a much bigger part is jubilant. And, he has to admit, he’s kind of proud. He made Even look like that, sound like that, and now he’s sitting right across from him, looking serious and all focused on whatever the lecturer has to say.

He wants Even to look at _him._ Wants him to know just what he’s thinking about, see if he can affect him like that again.

If his stare could burn a hole through the side of Even’s head, it would right now. But Even keeps looking at the lecturer, some kind of diagram of inclusion and exclusion criteria displayed up front. Isak couldn’t care less.

He toes off his shoes under the table, and lets his foot move forward a bit – searching to see if he can nudge Even somehow, make him know that Isak’s thinking of him, of them, that he’s still here. Even’s slightly turned to the left, though, and his foot must be somewhere further up ahead on the other side, where Isak really can’t reach without having to slide down under the table.

He lifts his foot up instead, and finds Even’s right knee, and then, carefully, slides his foot along the inside of Even’s thigh for as far as he can reach.

Just to see if Even can feel it, too.

He can see Even tense up. It’s probably not even noticeable to anyone else, but Isak knows, and it makes him even prouder. Even doesn’t give him as much as a glance, though.

Then Even removes his hand from the table, seemingly to put it in his lap. Instead, he imperceptibly grabs Isak’s foot, out of sight from anyone else.

For a moment, he’s afraid that Even’s just going to move his foot away and put it down, as if to stop bothering him. But then he can feel a thumb drawing little circles onto the sole of his foot. It’s intimate, reassuring, and strangely enticing at the same time. Even’s hand keeps stroking his foot, up and down, pressing here and there with feather-light touches inbetween.

It’s like a silent understanding. _I’m here_.  _We’re here._   _I know what you’re thinking, and it’s the same as me._

That’s all he needs to know for now.  


 

* * *

 

Lunch is a weird affair – they sit opposite from each other, talking like they normally would, only now there’s another level to it. It’s impossible to sneak away – the minutely planned course schedule has seen to that – but they can at least talk about everyday things.

Things they should have covered earlier, to be honest.

He asks Even politely about his school years, his family, his taste in music (Bakka; mum and dad - no siblings, still living at the apartment in Løkka; hiphop and pop and weird art music that it's entirely too obscure for anyone to have ever heard of, let alone Isak) – and realizes again that there’s so much he wants to know. His mind strays to the occasions where their conversation has bordered on something serious, and how every time Even’s response has been _I’ll tell you later. I promise._

He can’t help but wonder when ‘later’ actually is. He knows, objectively, that there are other, more serious topics that they should talk about.

For now, though, this will have to do.

The afternoon is supposed to be some sort of ‘group dynamics’ thing – and there’s no way of getting out of these things, that’s for sure.

They’re in their full group of eight, sitting around a table in one of the smaller seminar rooms, and the lecturer is going through the premises of the afternoon’s activities. Apparently they’re supposed to share things about themselves, ‘for the benefit of the group’. Isak can feel the restlessness in his very bones, the whole notion of putting himself out there in front of these people immensely unsettling.

Well, with some obvious exceptions.

The lecturer has written a few topics down in blue on the whiteboard – the first one being ’Where do you see yourself in ten years?’.

They’re supposed to take turns, and Isak only half-listens as Martin drones on about how he wants to be a cardiologist because of the ’intriguing biochemics of the heart’s electrical system’ and how he plans to get a foothold with some US researchers.

He’s much more interested in studying Even’s right arm, lying on top of the table across from him.

Even’s wearing a plain grey t-shirt with some print today, well-used and soft at the seams. Somehow, it looks better on him than any high-fashion item would do – falling gently down his sides, a lean, pale arm leading up to the lightly stretched fabric over his shoulders. His skin looks velvety smooth, and now, Isak also knows it is – he’s allowed to touch, to feel, to revel in it.

Later.

Suddenly, Even opens his mouth to speak. A pang of bad conscience hits Isak – he really hasn’t paid attention. Now, though, he directs his focus to Even.

“In ten years,” Even starts, “I’m probably still living in Oslo, at least. I’ve tried moving away before, and it made me realize that some things are better to have close at hand.”

_What does he mean by that - having something close at hand? Sonja? Or could he be referring to - me? But he doesn’t even know whether I’ll be in Oslo in ten years._

His stomach sinks a bit, thinking of all the things about Even that he doesn’t know. How big the part of Even’s life that’s not revolving around him is.

”Workwise, I’m hopefully working full time as a child psychiatrist.”

_What on earth._

Even, who could accomplish anything, who’s liked by everyone, and so smart, and capable… wants to become a child psychiatrist? One of the least popular specializations, where they practically throw money at you and give you everything you want, if you just start working for them? It makes no sense.

_What a perfect way to waste your whole career. All the opportunities thrown out the door from the start._

Even draws a deep breath.

“And, if I may dream, I also wish to have accomplished some kind of research that’s potentially beneficial to adolescents suffering from mental health issues,” he says, bending his head to look down at his hands, seeming almost… flustered? Bothered? Shy?

Isak watches Even in confusion, trying to hold back a frown from forming on his face. _Why._

Then it hits him. And it all makes sense.

Suddenly, he’s a bit ashamed. It’s just – he always assumed –

Everyone looks at him now, and that’s how he realizes that it’s his turn. This should be easy – he knows exactly what to say. Drawing in a breath, he tries to regain focus.

“In ten years, I’m hopefully working as a surgeon.” He can feel his voice shake a little, and does his best to regain its strength as he continues. ”Maybe in the upper gastric department, or vascular surgery. And I hope I’ll be able to stay in Oslo, too.”

As he says that last line, he hardly dares to look at Even, hoping he’s not coming across as too presumptuous. If he keeps talking, he’ll start blushing soon, and he can’t really think of anything else to say. So he keeps his mouth shut, even though everyone seems to be waiting for him to continue.

After he’s been silent for a while, someone at the end of the table clears their throat – finally drawing everyone’s attention away from him. He casts a quick glance up at Even, who already has his eyes on him, and a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. The sight makes him smile back; a silent conversation between them right here, right now.

At least until he remembers that everyone can see them sitting here, grinning at each other like two idiots, and he has to look down at the table again.

It’s not long, though, until he feels something nudge his knee – Even’s foot coming up, and then it slides to the inside of his thigh. And stays there. Just a steady presence, calming – but Even’s foot is placed pretty high up on his thigh, and if he was just to wiggle his big toe a little bit, it could get – interesting.

All thoughts of career moves or psychiatry versus surgery are suddenly completely wiped out of his head. Now that Isak has thought about it, Even doesn’t have to move at all for this to be excruciating. How is he supposed to focus now? Just the mere notion of Even’s foot in his lap, between his legs, mere inches from his dick, makes him flush all over, and he hopes it doesn’t show too much.

_Is he doing this on purpose?_ He dares cast another glance over at Even, who looks completely innocent, looking rapt at Marie talking about her plans of becoming a dermatologist, because of some little cousin with a rare skin condition that inspired her to become doctor in the first place.

Isak can hardly make out what she’s saying, blood rushing and pulse hammering in his ears. He’s praying they won’t have to get up and walk out of here when everyone is done talking – he is not in a condition to stand up right now.

Even is still not looking at him, just facing straight ahead with at neutral expression. And then he moves his big toe, just a tiny bit, but it’s enough to make Isak combust on the spot. _What the fuck._ They’re gonna have to sit here all afternoon, and then through dinner, and how is he even gonna survive?

It’s too much. All these thoughts about the future, about Even, the insecurity about how whatever they have between them is going to unfold. And then this – this physical evidence of how much this is affecting him, that makes him lose all concept of what’s real and what is not.

He needs to breathe.

Gently but firmly, he grabs Even’s foot and lifts it off his lap, trying not to make the movement show in his upper arms. He almost doesn’t have to look at Even to see his eyebrows lift in silent question.

But the tension only subsides a bit after that. Isak can’t focus uninterrupted for the rest of the afternoon. Not for lack of trying, he really does his best, but they could come up with any subject, and none of them would even be half as interesting as Even.

And to be honest, he’s too busy counting down the minutes until he can drag Even into his room, close the door and rip their clothes off. They really, really should talk about a lot of things, but the longer the afternoon drags on, the less important it seems. The physical need to have Even close, to have him to himself and to touch him like he means to, is closing in from all sides.

Gnawing at his bones and setting them on fire at the same time.

Even’s foot doesn’t come near him for the rest of the seminar, which is a relief, since Isak would probably faint from cerebral blood loss if it did. Even keeps looking at Isak, though, casting him these little glances. Which are just as suggestive. Isak can only hope that nobody catches on to them, because right now, he has a hard time hiding just about anything.

The seminar merges into dinner, Isak ending up with Julian, Martin and Emma at a table of four. After they’ve finished eating, he’s ready to simply march up to Even and drag him away, not caring what anyone would think. He’s had two beers, which almost equals sober, but it’s enough to make his thoughts swirl; his whole body aching with need and want. He’s trying to make Even look at him by staring a hole through the side of his head, but Even just keeps talking and talking to Marie and that lecturer from the morning seminar, whatever her name was.

Eventually, he can’t take it any longer. He mumbles something about an important phone call he has to make, and stands up, forgetting about the napkin in his lap that falls to the floor. There’s not even enough patience in him to bend down and pick it up. He walks around the table, well aware that he crosses Even’s line of sight as he makes his way to the hallway and heads for his room, heart beating fast, hoping, wishing for Even to join him.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before Even appears around the corner. Isak’s key is already in the lock, and as Even reaches him, Isak can’t wait another second. He grabs Even’s upper arm and quickly pulls him inside the room, slamming the door shut behind them to shove him up against it.

If this morning their kisses were searching, trying, now it’s nothing but raw, pure desperation. This need to touch, to be close, has been building all day – and it’s so much that he almost can’t get it out. There’s a tingle of bad conscience as Even’s back slams against the door – he hopes he isn’t too rough with him, but right now, he can’t help it. There’s nothing tentative about their kisses, now – just open mouths and hot tongues right away, and when Isak presses himself against Even, it’s like he can’t get enough.

Desperate, he reaches down between them to grab the hem of Even’s shirt, wanting to pull it over his head, trying to get even closer. Even lets him, and he leans forward to press a quick kiss to Even’s lips before his own t-shirt falls victim to the same fate, falling to the floor somewhere beside them.

It hits him that he hasn’t actually seen Even shirtless before, in this kind of situation. Only in locker rooms at the hospital, stealing quick glances and pretending not to see – so he takes a quick step backwards to really watch, and revel in the fact that he now is allowed to.

Even is panting, his head tilted back, leaning against the wall, his chest heaving. It’s an even more beautiful sight than in Isak’s memory – all that pale skin, chest skinny with firm, slightly defined abs. He looks absolutely wrecked, and Isak’s kind of afraid that he himself looks quite the same. Even tips his chin down and grins.

“Come here.”

His voice is low, and Isak doesn’t have to be asked twice, grabbing Even’s face between his hands and kissing the life out of him, still up against the door. Even slides his hands up and down his bare back, shooting tiny electric currents up and down his spine, down all the way to his toes, making his scalp tingle. Almost as if he could read Isak’s subconscious wish, one of Even’s hands travels all the way to the nape of his neck, tousling his fingers into his air and grabbing it, pulling ever so slightly. It makes Isak almost dizzy with want, makes his head spin.

A part of him could stand here, making out with their bare chests flushed against each other, all night – but a much bigger part wants more, closer and closer still. This morning, there had been some awkwardness, not really knowing where to put his hands, unsure of whether this was allowed. Now, though, what little doubt he may have about this is far in the back of his head – the hunger and need obliterating everything else.

And there’s no mistaking that Even is just as into this as well.

He’s not really sure exactly what he wants, only that he needs Even, and that he needs more of him. Blocking out any insecurity, he draws a decisive, shallow breath, and grabs the front of Even’s jeans, as if meaning to pull them open. Even’s breath hitches at that, but he makes no move as if to stop him, and as Isak starts pushing Even’s jeans down towards the floor, Even’s hands reach out to get rid of Isak’s pants as well, fumbling with the button a little.

It doesn’t take long until they’ve rid themselves of everything, and they stand there staring at each other, a miniscule distance apart, breathing, almost gasping. And it hits Isak in a flash that this – this is them, alone, together, without anything to hide behind. It’s the first time he’s completely naked together with somebody else since his high school gym showers, and the first time in a sexual way he enjoys.

The self-consciousness starts to creep up on him again, despite being the last thing he wants right now. So he takes a step forward. He needs to lose himself in Even once more, touching and letting himself be touched. Tries not to be embarrassed at the fact that they are actually standing here without a single piece of clothing on, and that somebody could be walking down the corridor outside, not even a meter away, suspecting nothing.

It seems that Even also senses a need to be near each other in this moment, because he wraps his arms around him even tighter as they kiss again, enveloping Isak as much as he can. Isak presses himself closer, and it makes him undeniably aware how hard he already is, and Even too. Even moans at that, and puts a large hand at the small of Isak’s back as if to get more, more of this. There’s nothing stopping them, so Isak just gives in, almost clinging on to Even like he’s afraid he’ll sublimate into thin air if he’d let go.

“Isak,” Even whispers in a cracked voice. And he takes one his hands from Isak’s back, reaching down between to wrap it around the both of them, and Isak almost blacks out at the feeling. It’s so overwhelming, mind-blowing and good, that all his self-consciousness is gone out the window. There’s no place for doubt or second thoughts now, everything that exists are them; all the naked skin and the dizzying, throbbing heat.

Just like this morning, he has to look Even in the eyes, and what he sees there stops his heart for a moment. There’s nearly no blue left at the edge of his pupils, his stare black and intense and he looks like he’s about to burst into fire.

The hand around them moves faster, and Isak has to fight to keep his eyes open, waves of pleasure rushing in from all sides, about to overtake him completely. Even’s other hand is still in his hair, and he grabs it just lightly, tilting Isak’s head back just enough for capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

And that’s all it takes for the waves to crash over him, enveloping him completely, almost making his knees give in under him as he comes.

 

* * *

 

Later, as they both have come down, sweat drying on their naked bodies under the duvet, the uneasiness starts creeping up on him again. Now given the release he’s been aching for all afternoon, his mind slowly returning to normal function. And it’s kind of stuck. His thoughts keep returning to the discussion at the seminar earlier, unable to let go.

He can’t do this if he doesn’t know. And he has to start somewhere.

“Even.”

Even nuzzles closer into the side of his neck. “Mm?”

“What happened in Gothenburg?”

It makes Even lift his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

_You know what I mean._ He lifts his chin, looking Even right in the eyes, steady, not wavering. _Not later. Now._

Even exhales, slowly, meeting his stare, and looks up to the ceiling.

“I – there’s so much you don’t know, Isak. And a part of me is really afraid to tell you. Because if you would know the real me, I’m not so sure you’d still want this – want me.”

Part of him recognizes that, knows what he means, and it echoes himself so much that it almost hurts – but another part insists that if only he has tried, if he’s given himself away, it’s not enough. It makes him sort of angry, that Even would think that he’s one to give up that easily.

“Listen to me, Even. You have no idea what I know and what I don’t know. Or what I want.” He swallows, unsure of how much to put on the line. “I want you. But I can’t stand it. Being this close to you, and not knowing what makes you doubt if I can handle it. So stop thinking and please, just let me in.”

Even averts his gaze from the ceiling, looking Isak deep in the eyes as he bites his lip. He draws in a deep breath, and it’s almost like he’s scared. Then he scoots down a little, and buries his face in Isak’s neck again.

Isak sees this for what it is – not an attempt to escape, but a safe space to confess into, a bubble. He knows it all too well. So he keeps stroking Even’s back, waiting.

“There was a reason I moved out of Oslo in the first place,” Even begins, whispering muffled words into the soft skin below his ear. “You know, I told you I needed to get away. And it was kind of the same reason that I had to get out of Gothenburg, too, in the end.”

“I thought you moved away from Oslo because you needed to get away from Sonja,” Isak confesses, a little confused.

Even sighs. “No. It wasn’t that easy.” He pauses. “I – I had an – an episode, or what you should call it. It’s a bit hard to explain.”

_An episode. So it might be true._ He tries to figure out how to convey to Even that it’s okay, that he’s not scared – even if that might not be the whole truth.

“Were you – up? Or down?” he tries, searching, testing.

Even draws back, facing him, staring him in right in the eye. He must wonder what Isak has heard. If he knows. If he can trust him with this.

So he just lifts his hand, puts it on Even’s cheek, and softly strokes his chin with his thumb, trying to reassure him, without a word. Even blinks, and, ever so slowly exhales.

“Up,” Even whispers. “Really far up.”

Isak nods, silent, trying to let him continue uninterrupted. Letting him know that it’s okay, and that he’s still here, unmoving, listening, free of judgment.

“And I – it screwed some things up. A lot of things, actually. And Gothenburg, it – it was a break, not too far away, but in another country. No one knew.”

“But it happened again.” That much, Isak has guessed by now.

Even looks down between them, shying away a little. “It was the final test. I studied so hard. I really wanted to prove that I had made it, you know. Six years by myself, and I had been – quite okay. It was hard, a lot of the time, but I managed. That huge exam, though, at the end – I was so focused that I forgot to sleep. And eat.”

He looks up again. “I passed the exam. Barely. But it went offhand, after. I couldn’t settle down. There was a party three days later, and I was so out of it. So wound up. Everyone must have realized by then. It got so out of hand, I don’t even want to tell you what I said and did that night.”

“My parents were coming to get me the next day, picking me up to go back home for the summer. I was just going to stay in Oslo for a week and then go back to Gothenburg to work over the summer, in the neurosurgery department. I had worked so hard to get that job. But they knew, of course, as soon as they saw me. And when I got home with them, I crashed. I crashed so hard. I was in bed the whole summer. They had to call my employer down in Gothenburg and just tell them I wasn’t coming.”

Even draws in a deep, shaky breath, and there’s a wetness at the corner of his eye that wasn’t there before. His is gaze fastened somewhere below Isak’s chin, long lashes trying to blink away the tears forming.

“I was so ashamed. If I fucked up once, when I was only eighteen, and then went away and managed to turn it around, do well on my own, it had only been a one-time thing. But then it happened again. And I thought that I should have seen the signs, that I was older and wiser this time. But then I knew. I couldn’t even trust me with myself.”

Isak nods. “You got back with Sonja.”

“Yes.” Even draws in on himself a bit more. “She was the only one who had been there the whole time. Except for my parents. And if I couldn’t take care of myself, somebody had to. And she knew everything. Even though we were far from in love anymore, it was my only resort.”

“But you’re better now.” It’s a simple fact, but also a tentative question. _Is this for real? Is this you? Are you well enough, now, that this is not just a fixation? A manic idea?_

Even lifts his face to look him in the eyes once more, like he knows what Isak is asking.

“I am.” He pauses, as if to let it sink in, to let Isak know that he means it. “I have been much better, really good, for a long time now. And that’s what I meant, about wanting to break up with her. It wasn’t fair to just have her as some sort of steadying point, an anchor to my life, when I wasn’t in love with her. And I don’t think she was in love with me, either – but it was a habit, a safe haven, of sorts. There was just too much at stake to actually take the leap and do it.”

_Is that all there was to it?_  Isak wants to ask. _Fairness? Her freedom? What about us?_

“But then I met you.” Even lifts a hand, letting it find its way to Isak’s cheek, to his hair, to the nape of his neck. “And I knew I couldn’t go on living my life like that. The only thing holding me back was my own cowardice, my excessive need for security. I hesitated for months.”

_Months? What is he saying?_

“Did – did you think of me like this, before? I mean, earlier?” The implications of what Even is really getting at are staggering.

Even smiles, soft, his eyes endlessly fond. “Yes. You know, the first day, when we started our internships?”

Isak can’t help his mouth from falling open at the confession. _The first day._ He’s out of words, just staring at Even, and they watch each other in silence, eyes locked, trying to say everything that isn’t necessary.

Finally, he draws a deep breath. “Wow.”

Even laughs at that, eyes crinkling at the corners where the wetness is all gone now; only small white crumbs left as a reminder.

“Yeah.” He lets his hand slide around to Isak’s upper back, drawing him somewhat closer, expression turning more serious again. “Do you know how long I have wanted to hold you like this? It’s almost surreal, lying here with you. I had no idea if you were even interested. I thought maybe you and Emma had a thing.”

“Emma?” He almost shouts it out, all disbelief. “No way!”

Even laughs again. “How the hell should I know? I didn’t know how to find out you were interested in me at all, if – if you even could like another boy, if I was supposed to ask you or something. I’ve never felt like this before!”

The confession is sudden, and could be brushed of as joking, but it’s like Even in that moment realizes what he just said. The air is at once serious as the laughter dies down. A question, a light awkwardness, is hanging above them, waiting, threatening somehow.

Isak looks at him then, steady, unwavering, and tries to pour all of his heart into what he says next. As he puts his hand on Even’s cheek and leans in to let their foreheads touch.

“Neither have I.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dirazor.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - we're here! The final chapter! 
> 
> I have to admit that the response I've gotten to this fic is way beyond what I dreamed of when I started writing it. I've been reading SKAM fics ever since the show ended, but this is the first piece of fic I tried writing myself. It has been so much fun writing, not to mention publishing it - all your kudos, comments, asks and messages on tumblr have truly blown me away! I really feel honored to have had such amazing readers with me on this journey.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this last chapter!

The following days are the best – and the worst – of Isak’s entire life. He’s constantly aware of Even’s presence, like his subconscious at all times registers where he is, like they are in the same orbit, dancing around each other, but never coming too close. Never being able to touch and be near the way he’d want to.

It’s excruciating and exhilarating all at once.

Sitting in the morning seminar on Thursday, he can’t help but wonder if someone has started to notice anything by now. In his own mind, his feelings are blasting out all over the room, unable to contain. If his love for Even was visible, it would be colours beaming across the room, like rainbow coloured sheets streaming out from him and all the way up and into every corner.

Unbelievable as it is, so far only Even seems to notice. Isak never has to doubt that he can tell – not with the way he’s casting him secret smiles, lingering glances and an occasional nudge under the table with a foot or knee.

But not to be able to touch at every such instance, to make himself stay away and keep his hands to himself, is borderline excruciating. It’s tearing at him, tugging at his heartstrings, and makes him question the conviction about how no one must find out, and he wonders how Even feels about it. That first night, he hinted about that he wouldn’t mind – but would it really be okay, when it comes down to it? Them, together for real, officially? What if it would hinder his, or Even’s career?

Then again, he has started to question quite a lot of things that he has been certain of before. Like, this thing about Even and his disease. They haven’t talked about it again, not since Tuesday night – but that conversation made something shift inside him. The way Even admitted it to him, after a lot of fear and hesitation; how ashamed he was and has been – makes him sad. How Even has tried to hide this from everyone, not wanting history to repeat itself once more – and then people in the ER and who knows where else are gossiping about it, casually throwing rumours around like it’s nothing but a joke.

To Even, it’s a dealbreaker, a wall that can’t be teared down; a fragile shell to protect him from the judgment and fears of others. Isak wants to shield him, to hold him, to never let anyone come near enough to hurt. How anyone could think that Even wouldn’t be a good enough doctor, or human being, because of his mental illness, is beyond him.

Not for the first time, a tiny, unannounced thought trickles out from the back of his mind, and nudges at his conscience. _What about yourself?_ He’s used to that annoying little notion – and just as used to dispatch it, brush it off like an irritating fly. It’s getting harder now, though, dismissing his own previous experience as something that belongs in the past, as something he should run from and never look back.

Five years, his subconscious reminds him. You haven’t been to see her for five years.

Objectively, he’s known for a long time that it wasn’t his mother’s fault. It’s not like she fell ill on purpose. It’s just been too hard to cope with. And he’s had a good reason to justify not letting her in again – he’s been needing all the time and energy he could muster for his studies.

_Imagine if someone would treat Even like that._  He lets himself glance up at Even again –  so alive, so vibrant, and immensely beautiful where he sits a few seats further up the table, focused on the lecturer. _It isn’t fair._

It really isn’t.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, they’re allowed two hours of free time before dinner. Isak could imagine all sorts of things to make the best out of this heavenly freedom. However, fate makes it unable to sneak away to either of their rooms together. There’s too much people around, and it would, in all fairness, be quite obvious if they stayed holed up in there for two hours straight, only to come out together, freshly showered, for dinner.

They end up walking across the cliffs in the big group, heading for the sea. Isak is has resigned himself to being forced to hang out with Even in the presence of others for the next couple of hours. It doesn’t stop him from walking next to Even, though, on the verge of letting their hands brush against each other as they swing by their sides. They hang back a little behind the others, in silent understanding.

It’s warmer today, the sun almost burning his cheeks a little, reflections of its rays glittering on the water’s surface. The air smells of salt and the wind tousles Even’s hair so that it falls across his forehead, causing Isak to ache to reach out and gently brush it to the side. He almost has to stop his hand from acting on its own accord; an invisible but all-encompassing pull constantly wanting to draw him in.

“Want to go for another walk?” Even suggests in a hushed voice when the others are out of earshot.

Isak squints against the sun. “You don’t think they will notice?”

“Oh, they probably will,” Even grins. “But so what? We just wanted to go for a walk, right?”

Isak smiles back at him. “Yeah. Right.”

But he can’t muster a lot of resistance, and as Even tilts his head toward one of the cliffs to the right, further from the water and away from the others, he’s helpless to oblige.

As they’re halfway up the cliff, walking towards a narrow, high-rising, almost fragile-looking wooden red tower, his phone pings.

 

_From Magnus_

_13.24_

how’s the swedish west coast isak

Is anyone making out yet

I am aware of what happens at those conferences you know

 

Isak rolls his eyes, more out of habit than annoyance, because his chest feels a little warm. The fact that someone at home thinks of him while he’s away, makes him feel settled somehow.

 

_To Magnus_

_13.26_

First of all, it’s not a conference, magnus

Second, there’s no time to hook up here. You know, busy schedule

But the west coast is awesome

We’ll take you here someday

 

_From Magnus_

_13.27_

Wtf

Who are WE isak

As in you and your girlfriend or what

 

His palms starts sweating at his Freudian slip. _We._ Then he reads Magnus’ message again, and can feel himself getting worked up by his words. A part of him feels like jumping out there and tell him the truth, if only so to shut him up.

The moment the thought crosses his mind, he tries to push it away. It doesn’t budge, though. _Would it be so bad?_

It’s not like Magnus would have anything against it. Quite the opposite. There would just be so much… fuss about it. The questions he can imagine coming from Magnus if he found out about Even makes him roll his eyes already. Although, he thinks about coming home, maybe bringing Even to his apartment. Having him over for dinner. Staying the night. The longing for that, for a life without hiding, just honesty and warmth and familiarity, is strong enough to almost convince him that it would be alright.

Before he can let the thought unfold further, however, his phone starts pinging again.

 

_From Magnus_

_13.31_

btw isak

did you hear that somebody finally told that asshole sundby to shove it

apparently in surgery last week

and he just shut up and took it!!!!!!!! and hasn’t told anyone

like he’s really ashamed and now he’s gone really low profile

it’s amazing

but all the nurses know now ofc

and maaaaaan i’d like to know who it was

that person is the hero of the week here i swear

did you hear about it

 

He stares at his phone. During all that has happened so far this week, he almost forgot all about Thursday and all the anguish. It’s hard to believe that it was less than a week ago.

It’s not surprising that the news have started to spread. But that the nurses present have chosen not to reveal who did it, is in fact a surprise. They must have decided about it together – to keep quiet about it – or it would be over the whole hospital by now.

But why?

“What’s happening?” Even has turned around, apparently having noticed that he’d stopped in his tracks, no longer following.

Isak looks up, suddenly remembering that Even was there as well. He’d almost forgotten. On the other hand, that must also mean that Even hasn’t mentioned it to anyone, either. “It’s Magnus. You know, my roommate? The ER nurse?”

“Yeah.” Even nods. “Blonde, affectionate?”

Isak can’t help but laugh at the most accurate description of Magnus he’s ever heard in two simple words. “Yeah, that’s him.” He smiles, shaking his head at what he knows Magnus would say to that. “Anyway, he’s heard the rumours about what happened in surgery last Thursday. You know, with Sundby and Emma and all. It seems that everyone knows about it now, but nobody knows who spoke up. Like, isn’t that weird? Why did the nurses decide to shut up about it?”

“Not sure,” Even responds, squinting his eyes up at the clouds, and pauses for a few seconds. “Might very well be the same reason I haven’t told anyone, though.”

“Why?” Isak asks. He’s unable to wrap his head around it.

Even looks him straight in the eye, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Isak. Seriously. What you did – I bet the nurses thought it was a very, very long time coming. And Sundby is a really powerful man in this hospital. I mean, he’s probably got the power to make or break someone completely. You know that.” Even’s eyes are sincere, and that look of awe is back on his face.

“Yeah? So why have they stayed quiet about who it was?” Isak still doesn’t grasp what he’s getting at.

“To protect you, of course.” Even’s stare is dead serious. “They’ve had to work with him every day for years, Isak. Imagine listening to that crap all the time, and never dare, or be able to, speak up. When somebody finally does that, I don’t think they take it lightly.”

_To protect me? They don’t even know me!_ “That’s – that’s really cool,” he manages at last.

Even smiles. “It really is,” he says. “I told you, remember?”

Isak still tries to fathom it all. The nurses have obviously deliberately decided to keep his name out of this, to let him go free. And the implications of that – it’s more than he could ever wish for. Ultimately, it means that he’ll be able to pursue his goal: to come back to work in the surgery department at Ullevål, after all.

He might be – free. And all thanks to those nurses who don’t even know him. Who don’t owe him anything.

The gratefulness, the possibilities, his dreams that he thought lost, come rushing back into his mind, lying open, suddenly within his reach again. “Wow,” he breathes. He looks up at Even, wind-blown hair whisking all over his head, smile wide on his face, and blue eyes crinkling at the corners with the brightly shining sun.

The happiness is overwhelming, and he can’t contain himself any longer. He takes one long, quick stride up to Even, throws both of his arms around his neck, and kisses him on the mouth. Right here up on the cliffs, under the sky, for anyone to see. And Even kisses him back, smiling into it, his hair blowing into Isak’s eyes as well, seagulls crying out above them.

They kiss for a while longer, just soft kisses, happy, careless, free.

Suddenly, it hits Isak that maybe he should have asked Even first if this was okay. Nobody else is around, the others having disappeared down behind the rocks ahead and down to the sea – but theoretically, anyone could see them. He draws back from the kiss, still holding on to Even’s back, just to check in with him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to – attack you like this,” he smiles, sheepishly. “I mean – anyone could have seen us, and I didn’t even know if you were ready for that.”

Even smiles, expression immensely fond, and lifts a hand to stroke his cheek. “Isak. If you’re okay with this, so am I.” His face, then, turns more serious.

Isak’s heart beats a little faster at the implication. “Are you sure?”

“If you want me to.”

He can swear that his heart stops for a moment. “Really?” he whispers.

“If you’ll let me have you, you’re mine.” Even looks down, looking abashed. “Wow. God, that was so sappy.”

“Worthy of Jason Mraz,” Isak huffs.

They both look at each other, and start laughing; loudly, uninhibited, like that day at the hospital when they first got stuck on each other. Their laughter echoes around them, magnifying, travelling fast along the cliffs.

 

* * *

 

As they walk down the cliffs a while later, hand in hand, Isak can’t help that he’s nervous. Is he actually ready for this? The realization that he, only a month ago, hardly could admit to himself that he was attracted to another guy is hard to fathom. He tries to see himself in an objective light, turning the facts around in his head, as if trying to get an outsider’s perspective on it all.

If he goes all in with this now, revealing not only himself but also Even, will he regret it? Does he want to risk the second chance at his dream job that he seems to have been given? And Even; is he with him in this?

He doesn’t want to believe anything else.

Looking down at their joined hands, and up again, he meets Even’s wide smile, which is nothing but reassuring. It’s almost enough to give him peace.

And then he realizes that he never replied to Magnus.

“Wait,” he says to Even, who lets go of his hand, letting it fall limp to his side. “No! That’s not what I meant,” he quickly corrects himself, feeling a little stupid, and grabs Even’s hand again, squeezing it as if to prove it. “I just need to do something first.”

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he weighs it a little in his hand, before swiping his conversation with Magnus open.  


_To Magnus_

_14.37_

Okay so there might have been some making out after all

I’ll tell you when i get home

 

If Isak remembers correctly, Magnus is working right now, so he won’t have to deal with the questions right away – but an inkling of the truth is out there, and it’s a start. It’s unsettling and settling all at once. But most of all, it gives a sense of freedom that might be within his reach, making him think, maybe wanting to push a little further.

Maybe not with Magnus, though. But he can think of one person who most definitely will be okay with this, with him – with them. Actually, he more than thinks – he knows.

He toys with his phone in his left hand for a few seconds, then holds it up against the sun, reversing the camera and peeking up at the screen. “Are you okay with a selfie?”

Even wraps an arm around his back in response, and nuzzling his nose into Isak’s temple, he kisses his cheek while the camera clicks. Isak brings down his phone and holds it close, squinting to see the result in the sharp sunlight.

They look so happy, and his heart swells in his chest. Even is perfect. It’s all perfect.  

He picks up his chat with Eva, and hovers his thumb over the picture thumbnail, before looking up at Even, who nods in response, smiling just as wide as Isak did in the picture.

He presses send, and exhales, not aware that he even was holding his breath to begin with.

It doesn’t take long until his phone lights up with a message from Eva – red hearts filling the whole screen from top to bottom.

 

* * *

 

The others aren’t back when they return. Somewhat anticlimactic, now that Isak has worked himself up to face this, to dare holding Even’s hand as they walk into the restaurant for dinner, with no one there to see. They sit down beside each other at their table, closer than most people normally would, thighs touching every now and then as they turn to each other with the conversation.

Even smiles at him as he grabs a piece of bread from the basket on the table, and puts his other hand on Isak’s thigh under the table.

The hand is not heavy, not suffocating, but it has a certain weight to it, a warmth transferring through the fabric of his jeans in a sort of significant way, grounding him in the moment.

“We haven’t tried out the pool yet. Or the sauna,” Even says then, in a completely neutral tone of voice.

Isak can feel his insides heat up, and he casts Even a dark look.

Even wiggles his eyebrows at him. “I really just meant that we haven’t tried them out, you know,” he laughs, but his cheeks have turned a little red.

Isak smiles. “Yeah. Sure.”

”Isn’t it a little too hot in the sauna, though? For… that?” Even asks in a low voice, winking.

“For what?” Isak says, because he can’t help but tease him a little more.

Even eyes him. “You know what I mean,” he says and pinches Isak’s side, making him jump and almost knock his glass of water over. Then he grins, and adds: “I really wouldn’t mind kissing you in the pool, though. If we were alone in there. Imagine what an epic kiss that would be.”

“Yeah.” Isak has to agree. “Too bad the pool closes at eight.”

Thinking about it, he wouldn’t put it past Even to break in there after hours, though.

Right then, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Once, twice, five times. He can’t help but grin to himself, having an inkling about who it might be.

And sure enough, as he picks up his phone, Magnus’ name flashes up the screen, his shift having ended by now.

 

_From Magnus_

_21.07_

ISAK

tell me that you have finally gotten some on this trip!!!

it’s that emma girl isn’t it

i fucking knew it man

now stop teasing and tell me

 

He weighs his options back and forth. This is a window, an opportunity, if he chooses to take it. Or he could draw back, let it be, leave Magnus hanging for now. Let him find out some time later, on his own perhaps. Not take the plunge, at least right now.

Biting his lip, he glances up at Even who’s talking to Marie at the table on the right, his eyes glittering, laughing, smiling.

 

_To Magnus_

_21.08_

it’s not emma

 

_From Magnus_

_21.08_

well who then?! fucking spill. there’s other girls in your group isn’t there

 

He takes a deep breath, and writes the next message quickly with both thumbs, heart racing as he presses send.

 

_To Magnus_

_21.10_

it’s not a girl

 

His phone stays quiet for at least three minutes, doing nothing to calm him. Then, finally, it lights up, and he snatches it up, unlocking it immediately.

 

_From Magnus_

_21.13_

is it even

he’s so fucking hot isak!!!!!

 

His heart still beats fast, but it’s like it’s trying to break free out of his chest now, instead of suffocating him – but still too intense to leave him able to type out an answer right away.

 

_21.14_

it’s even isn’t it

tell me it’s him

come on isak

tell me!!!!!!

i’m fucking calling you right now

 

Isak picks up his phone and types out a message as quickly as he’s able to.

 

_To Magnus_

_21.15_

fucking chill

mags

yes it’s him

now leave me alone

i have other stuff to do

 

_From Magnus_

_21.16_

like what

no wait

 

_To Magnus_

_21.17_

night mags ;)

 

His screen then lights up with one final message from Magnus – no text, but at least twenty eggplant emojis.

He laughs to himself, his cheeks gradually becoming less red, as the weight lifts off of his chest, a little at a time.

Imagine where he was just a week ago. Tonight, it will be exactly a week since they lay on Even’s living room floor, aching so much to touch, and now they’re… here? It’s like months have passed since that moment down by the sea, on the cliffs, in the moonlight, Monday night.

It’s their last night here, after all. And it calls for a proper send-off.

After dinner is finished, everyone migrates to the bar; taking advantage of the fact that they’re only having a half day of lectures tomorrow, and then going home after lunch. Isak takes Even’s hand, pulling him a little to the side.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Even’s eyebrows lift up. “Yeah? Do you have anything in mind?”

“Maybe I do,” Isak says, trying to give him a secret kind of smile.

Angling his body slightly towards Even, so that no one else sees, he slides his hand into his pocket, lifting up the little green bag just far enough for Even to be able to see. Even’s eyes widen a little, and he gives an enthusiastic smile.

“Let’s go,” he says.

As they walk out of the restaurant, their arms dangle beside each other, close enough that their knuckles brush against each other. It’s settling. Comforting. Feeling far too right for him to care if anyone can see, as they round the corner to head outside.

Soon they’re back in the spot down by the water. It’s almost even more beautiful down here than Isak remembered it – maybe, at least partly, because his stomach isn’t trying to collapse on itself with nervousness this time.

The weed is sufficient enough for one large joint, one that they share in a comfortable silence. It’s nothing like the last time they smoked, but somehow it’s also the same. This time, though, Isak doesn’t have to wonder what it means when their fingers brush, or when Even looks at him a little too long.

It’s just still, and wonderful, and easy.

The moon is out tonight, too, clouds passing it only now and then, shrouding them in occasional darkness. The only sounds come from small waves lapping at the shoreline below. It’s so still that Isak can hear the faint sound of weed crackling as Even takes a deep drag.

Tomorrow, they’re going back. Getting into work on Monday again. Bursting the bubble they have conjured up around themselves these past few days.

“How do you think it will be when we get home?” he asks.

Even’s smoke cloud dissolves in the still evening air, and then Even turns towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, how are we gonna be – doing this?”

He waves a hand around between them, not sure how to express his thoughts.

Even puts a hand on his thigh, silent for a moment, before he speaks. “It’s gonna be… just what we want it to be, I think.”

And that’s the point exactly.

“What do you want it to be, then?”

There’s a fondness in Even’s eyes that almost makes Isak’s breath hitch. “I thought I had been pretty clear about that.”

“Yeah?”

“Isak – I don’t doubt it for a second. My feelings for you, I mean.” Even bites his lip then, and there’s some insecurity flashing across his features that Isak doesn’t like at all. ”But…”

He waits. It’s better to have it out there, whatever it is that makes Even hesitate about them.

“I can be a little – complicated to be with.” His eyes are serious as he studies Isak. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Isak swallows. This is what he somehow knew must come. And – how is he supposed to explain this to Even? How he’s behaved towards the only person he’s known so far with a severe mental illness? How he cut her out for the better part of his adulthood?

What kind of message will that convey to Even? Yes, I care for you and I want you, but if things get too hard, I will leave you and try to forget that you never existed?

He looks up at Even, scared, not knowing what to say.

“Isak.” Even continues. “You don’t have to get yourself into this. I completely understand if this – if I’m –”

_No._ He grabs a hard hold of Even’s wrist. He licks his lips, and again, the options swim before him. The guilt stirs somewhere deep down. Should he tell him? Is this the time?

He searches Even’s eyes for a lead, some kind of clue, and he sees the same thing there that’s growing in the pit of his own stomach. Fear. Insecurity. And he knows – this won’t do.

“There are… things,” he starts. “Things that make me – think, or know, that I won’t let you go.” _This time,_  he doesn’t say.

What he’d like to say is out of his reach, so he looks down at their joined hands. Fastens his grip, finding courage in the connection between them.

“I didn’t – I didn’t tell you this before, and it’s kind of difficult,” he starts. “It’s – family stuff. I don’t really know where to start. But you’re not the first person I care about that has struggled – mentally, I mean.”

Even’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything

“And – the reason it’s so hard to tell you, it’s – I haven’t always been the best at dealing with it. I mean it. I’m – I’ve kind of _not_ been good at it – at all.” Isak swallows. How could he even begin to tell Even in a way that won’t make him leave, never wanting anything to do with Isak again?

He glances up at Even, scared, looking for reassurance. Even squeezes his hand, but still doesn’t say anything, just drawing tiny circles with his thumb in Isak’s palm, and his eyes seem almost bottomless, but still, and so fond, and sure.

Isak swallows, trying to push down the shame and regret back into the deep pits of his stomach. “What I want to say, I think – is that I’ve made that mistake once. And I don’t want to do it again. And I want to tell you everything – I mean it.”

“Later,” Even says, trying, soothing.

Isak nods, and looks up at him again, his expression softening, and he reaches out a hand to put it on Isak’s cheek.

“Later,” Isak agrees. Right now, there’s nothing more to say.

The silence settles around them once more, but it’s comfortable again, as they sit there, hand in hand, in silent agreement. There is time, and somehow, he thinks can start to believe that it’s on their side.

 

* * *

 

When they finally get back inside Isak’s room, the way that they undress each other holds nothing of the desperation from before. Tonight, it’s caring, gentle, and slow. They take their time, almost reverently, not like they’re afraid that the other would break – more like they both want to convey that this is love, also. Not just attraction or desire, but a commitment of sorts.

The way that Even keeps his eyes on Isak the whole time is something close to worship, and it’s so intense that he almost has to look away now and then – but it’s real, and a it’s a sort of intimacy that’s on another level than before. A closeness that says: yes, it’s okay. I’ll wait for you. I’m here.

The knowledge that this is his, right here and now, wraps around him, filling him, and it’s all he never knew he needed to feel whole, complete. They hold each other tight, tighter than before, breathing in each other, almost like becoming one.

After, Isak lies on his back in Even’s bed, calm, content. He lets his mind wander, lets Even play with his fingers in the hair at his temple, dragging them down along his neck to draw patterns on his chest, stars and animals and intricate figures.

“Even?”

“Hm?” Even has his focus on a couple of freckles on Isak’s chest, moving his forefinger in a figure eight around them, over and over again.

Isak turns onto his side, facing Even, making an effort to sound serious. “Why do you want to be a child psychiatrist?”

Even looks up at him. “What do you think?” he says, his tone not condescending at all, just curious.

Isak considers it for a moment. “I think – you want to help others with the same struggles that you’ve had yourself. Since you know what it’s like?”

“Partly right.” Even nods. “Not only that, though.”

Even’s finger stops moving for a short while, then resumes its path, like it somehow helps his thoughts move along with the movement. “To be honest, I’ve always found it rewarding to work with adolescents, on the whole. Like, imagine what you can do for someone if you help them find the right path at that age. Or, not the right path, maybe, but a path that can work for you. Not like everything goes to hell when you’re older, but. Still.”

Isak needs a moment to process that. It’s a kind of comforting thought, that maybe there isn’t just one way of living that is right. That you could have different outcomes, different roads leading there, and they could all be somewhat okay.

He wonders how Even’s path has been. Winding, it seems. “How was it – for you? Being a teenager, with everything?”

Evens draws a deep breath before he answers. “It was – so scary. Of course. You can’t imagine.”

He pauses, and let his hand slide down Isak’s side, stopping at his hipbone to hold on a little tighter, and bites his lip, before he continues, and this time it’s with a certain emphasis. “At the same time – I’m so fucking grateful. The help I have received – I mean, to begin with, I’m alive. That’s more than you can say for a lot of us.”

A gorge opens beneath Isak at that – the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. His mind boggles, and he hugs Even closer, burrowing his nose into his hair, filled with a bottomless need to hold on and not let go. At loss for anything to say, he tries to let his body convey what he can’t make himself form into words.

“A really simple reason, too, but a quite important one, is the practicalities of it,” Even says, matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t just drop a line that shifted Isak’s whole world. “It doesn’t suit me to work night shifts, for example. Fucks with my sleep schedule too much.” He shrugs as if to resolve the seriousness to the conversation, the movement partly restrained by Isak’s still tightly clasped arms.

Isk doesn’t let go, though. He can’t shake it off that easily. And at the same time, he can’t find it in himself to ask, unsure of if he wants to hear the answer.

So he lets it hang there for a moment between them. Even doesn’t say anything, and finally Isak gives in, and humours him by following into a somewhat safer space. “Sounds wise.”

It’s silent for a beat once more.

“What about you?” Even says then, and looks up at him.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “What about me?”

“Why surgery?”

Oh.

It might be that he has benefited from not completely focusing solely on his job; that something inspiring some sort of passion in him could avert some of attention, sparing him some energy. Lately, surgery has seemed like fun again for the first time in a while – not just a goal or a destination to aim for.

However, along with his growing attraction to Even, he’s also started to question if the sometimes conservative environment would be the best for him. Starting to come to terms with who he really wants to be; what he can allow himself to feel and to want, he’s not sure.

The confrontation with Sundby last week only adds fuel to the flames. Does he really want to fight for a spot in a place where he’s maybe not even wanted?

“I’m not really sure. Not anymore,” he sighs, averting his eyes to the roof. He hasn’t really voiced this out aloud before. Plus, the scariest part is – what would he do instead?

Even has his hand spread out flat on his stomach, now, stroking it in wide circles around his navel, soothing. “Why?”

“To be honest, I – I don’t know if it’s worth the fight,” he admits.

Even raises himself up on an elbow, bending his head forward to plant a soft kiss on Isak’s collarbone. “What kind of fight?” he mumbles into the crook of Isak’s neck.

“Like, fighting for a job there. Working so hard for it, and then I’ll have to work with idiots like Sundby? Do I really need to spend my time with such people?”

Even raises his head again, looking him straight in the eye. “But you love it. The work, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He has to admit that much. “But maybe it’s better to just stay away sometimes. To accept that you can’t change some things, or that maybe it’s not your place to do it. Just find something – else.” It hurts to say, but he does believe there’s some truth to it.

“Listen, Isak,” Even says, and now he has that firm tone of voice that Isak used against him just the other day. “You don’t have any obligations to anybody. You don’t have to fight anyone else’s battle. But, I mean, you already took on that old slimebag.”

Isak smiles a little at the expression. He guesses that part is true, at least. “And Isak, you don’t have to be the one to change everything. But if you want this – and I know you do – you can perhaps start something.” Even lifts his hand from Isak’s stomach, and puts it firmly on his cheek, making him look Even in the eye.

God. The idealism. He really has to introduce Even to Jonas properly soon.

“You know I’ll back you, if you want,” Even says, simply as that.

Hearing Even say it, this close, breathing him in, he might convince himself to at least think about it.  “Yeah. Maybe.”

He scoots down, so that their faces are level with each other, and lets their noses touch.  

And Even just smiles, and strokes his cheek once more, before kissing him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my biggest thanks go out to my amazing beta, [vesperthine](vesperthine.tumblr.com). This fic is at least a million times better thanks to her - and if you haven't read her works, please do check them out. Her writing talent is incredible!
> 
> Feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](irazor.tumblr.com), I'm irazor there.
> 
> And - of course - thank you so much for reading! <3


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